


Spider-man: Homestay

by HiddenBookShelf



Category: Iron Fist (TV), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, F/M, Gen, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Spider-Man: Far from Home Credits Scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-08-23 09:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20240230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenBookShelf/pseuds/HiddenBookShelf
Summary: Far From Home spoilers in summary!Peter's identity is out and now he's wanted for the murder of Beck's Mysterio. With his face plastered all over Manhattan and the media adding fuel to the bonfire of rumors, Peter is forced to take drastic measures in escaping New York in order to protect the people he loves.But secrets have a cost, and sometimes that cost is too high a price.Sequel to Spider-man Far From Home





	1. Tell Me What You Want to Hear

> Chapter One: Tell Me What You Want to Hear

“Peter, calm down!”

He shook his head, pacing the alleyway. MJ ran her hands through her hair, smoothing out the wind damage from her curly locks. “Calm?” he gasped. He was nearing in on hyperventilating. “Calm!”

“Yes,” she snapped. Her phone was ringing off the hook. May, or Ned, or Betty… A plethora of people who couldn’t get a hold of him calling her because he was too busy panicking to pick up his damn phone. “Peter, you can’t do this here.” He was still in costume, but his mask had been discarded on the sidewalk. “You can’t freak out… not _here.”_

He stopped his pacing and turned to her, his eyes wide and terrified.

“Look, everyone _knows_ you’re a hero! Who cares if they know who you are? We all knew the identities of the other Avengers. Hell, Tony Stark—”

“Don’t!” Peter snapped, pointing at her. “Don’t… mention him!” She took a step back. He was stressed and she didn’t blame him for being so defensive. He seemed to notice that he had spooked her. “I…I’m sorry, MJ.”

She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for her to panic or be upset with him for the outbrust. They only had time for one person to panic in their little duet. “It’s fine, Peter, but you need to get somewhere private and then you can scream all you want into a pillow. And May will make you some wheatcakes and make some phone calls--” She hesitated, unsure if she’d trigger another panic attack by mentioning Pepper. She decided to risk it. “--to Pepper and we can make this whole thing disappear. They all knew you’re a hero. It’s going to take more than some guy on a shady news source to turn this city against you.”

Peter looked at her for several moments before he nodded slowly, finally finding some sort of peace for the time being. He walked slowly and carefully to his mask, replacing it over his head. She decided now wasn’t the time to joke about the mask being pointless. They still had no proof that he was the true holder of the identity. It could very well be that Mysterio had been lying.

He turned to her and looked prepared to say something. She offered him a tight smile before he fired a web and jumped into the air, leaving her alone in the alleyway. Once he was gone, she fell against the wall and put her head against the brick with a soft groan. Her phone rang again and she picked it up. “Hey, Ned,” she said as she started for the alley entrance.

“Is he okay?” Ned asked. She wanted to smile.

“Not right now,” she answered bluntly. There was no point in avoiding the elephant in the room. Peter wouldn’t be okay for a while; but the city would heal. She usually had a pessimistic attitude, but she had seen the good in people and the world. They would see him for who he was. They _had_ to.

“Is he with you?”

She shook her head. “I think he went home.” She stopped at a bus stop and waited patiently. “I’m on my way there now. He’s going to need someone to anchor him…” They hadn’t been together very long at all and it felt like everything was falling apart. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through, though. If she was this close to freaking out, she could only imagine how close he was to it; if he wasn’t panicking already. “Where are you?” One thing she couldn’t shake was that they needed to get into hiding. Weren’t they in danger too?

She shook her head, trying not to think about it. It wasn’t about them… But, in a way, it _was. _Their connection to Peter put them on some hit lists. “I’m fine. I think I should get to his house, too,” he answered. MJ nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Stay safe, MJ.”

“You too…” She hung up and wrapped her hand around the handle on the bus so tightly, her knuckles began to hurt.

Peter landed heavily on the fire escape leading to his room. After the Blip, they had to find a new home. Pepper had been more than happy to donate whatever they needed, but May had wanted to not rely on Tony Stark’s money. It was a good sentiment, but now he wished they had the entirely of Fort Knox. It wouldn’t take long before the press showed up looking for a statement. Even if they could somehow make this go away, it wouldn’t for most people. The toothpaste was out of the tube and it could never be put back in. Or… however that saying went.

He stared into the window leading to his bedroom. May wasn’t in there. He hadn’t even bothered checking his phone. Happy had probably just left if he was gone already. She was probably calling him off the hook to make sure he was okay. He had made it back without incident and he hoped that it wasn’t just luck. They could fix this… couldn’t they? They had to fix this. He wasn’t about to let Mysterio ruin his life. Not like this.

The man had already taken something from Peter he could never get back. He couldn’t let Mysterio have everything. It didn’t seem fair.

He opened the window and stepped inside, pulling the blinds closed behind him. “May?” he called. When she had found out who he was, she had hated it at first. She hated that he was risking his life out there. She had tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fight; or at least it didn’t have to be. There was a lot of yelling and then a lot of silence. She had come around eventually and he was glad that she knew long before this. If this was how she had found out, she would have killed him.

The door swung open and she crossed the room to him, gathering him tightly in her arms. He steeled himself. “I’m fine,” he said. He was more worried about her. He could fight off anyone who came after him. She couldn’t. “Are you?”

“Yes… I’m okay.” She held him at arm’s length. “I called Happy. He wants to get with Pepper before coming back. He told me not to answer the door for anyone.” Peter nodded. “Get something else on and I’ll…” She paused and he knew why. There was nothing they could do. This was something he couldn’t fix by punching his way out of it. Nothing would work. This wasn’t a superhero problem. He clenched his fists and backed away as May watched him. She offered him the slightest grin. “It’ll be okay,” she tried to assure him. It wasn’t much assurance.

If Tony was still here…

He shook his head without finishing the thought. It didn’t matter what Tony would do. He _wasn’t_ there anymore. Mysterio’s illusion flashed in his head. That was one thing he hadn’t told anyone. They knew how that encounter ended, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about how Mysterio had led him into the path of the speeding train. That was private. He still had nightmares.

May smiled one more time and left the room as he turned to lock his window and remove his mask. How could she smile at him? Their lives were falling apart. “Maybe she just thinks that after getting Blipped, this doesn’t really compare.” And maybe to her, it didn’t. To him… it was just another notch in the list of terrible things that were just happening with his life. His reached up to lock the window and noticed his hand trembling. He looked back to make sure May hadn’t seen it before quickly locking it and grabbed his shaking hand.

He shook his head. Not now… Now wasn’t the time. He pulled off the black and red suit and changed into a shirt that was too big for him and shorts. He tugged at the collar of the shirt and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Tony’s grave flashed in his mind, startling him. His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring at the EDITH glasses case on his dresser; a thing that he was given and he hadn’t been ready for. Tony made a lot of mistakes in his life… that was what Happy had told him.

Peter never imagined he’d be just another one of Tony’s mistakes.

Peter jumped out of his skin when the doorbell went off. He scrambled towards the door, but May grabbed his arm as he passed her. “Let me answer it.”

“Aunt May…” He didn’t want to tell her that if it was someone who was there for a fight, he’d rather he be the one who got shot. Her stern look responded to his unspoken fear. She was here for him and she wouldn’t let anyone hurt him if she could help it.

May held her arm in front of Peter like a mother holding a child without a seatbelt in car. She locked the chain bolt on the door and then opened it.

“May Parker?” The voice behind the door was male, but it wasn’t Happy.

May scowled. “We aren’t talking to press,” she snapped. Peter couldn’t help but smile slightly. Her tone was as stern as ever. She wasn’t missing any beats.

The man laughed slightly. “I understand, ma’am,” he said. His voice was rather calm, and Peter wasn’t sure he liked it. “I’m not with the press, but if a reporter sees me out here, you will be front page news for a _very_ different reason.” May didn’t budge. “Please. I merely want to help you and your nephew.”

May turned to Peter and all he could do was shrug. His judge of character wasn’t great at the moment. May sighed and shut the door to unlock the chain. She reopened the door to reveal a red-haired man in a suit that looked like it cost more than their apartment. He stepped inside and she shut the door behind him.

“I appreciate it, Mrs. Parker.” He held out his hand and she took it carefully. “Norman Osborn.”

“Osborn?” Peter asked. “As in… Oscorp?” The man nodded. “You bought the Avengers Tower.”

“I did.” He withdrew his hand and observed the apartment. Peter saw it in his eyes that he was thinking about their meager living arrangements. It was nothing special. Their apartment was probably the size of his bedroom.

May broke the tension in the room. “Would you… like some coffee, Mr. Osborn?”

“No, thank you.” He smiled. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“It crossed my mind,” May said, crossing her arms.

Norman seemed mildly taken aback by their slightly rude behavior towards him. Peter wanted to tell him that it probably wasn’t personal. Everyone was a little on edge at the moment. Norman cleared his throat in the silence. “Yes… You see, one reason I wanted to move headquarters to New York was the surplus of metahumans here.” He nodded to Peter. “Your nephew being one of the ones I was most interested.”

May’s stance changed instantly, and Peter tensed. Did he want to run tests? Run him through the ringer? Norman looked between them and then seemed to notice how they were reacting to him.

“Oh… I understand that sounds bad. I admire Spider-man,” he clarified. “Nothing more. When this happened, I wanted to be sure that I was there to help him through it.”

May didn’t relax. “How?”

“One, I’d like to move you two to my apartment. It will have the highest security in the city. I can handle the press and make sure this all goes away in a matter of days.”

“We have Stark Industries for that,” she challenged. Peter nodded slowly.

Norman looked between them again. Peter could swear he saw the man’s eyes narrow. “Of course… I understand.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, offering it to May. “But if you need anything, Mrs. Parker, do not hesitate to call me.” He smiled at both of them, lingering slightly on Peter, before nodding and heading towards the door. May opened it.

“I appreciate it, Mr. Osborn,” she said with a strained smile. As she opened the door, everyone froze. Happy was standing with his fist up to knock on the door.

He stammered slightly and looked at the situation in the room, clearly trying to comprehend it. “Uh… Hello…?”

“Mr. Osborn was just leaving,” May said, ushering the man into the hallway as Happy passed through the open door.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Osborn,” Happy stuttered. Norman nodded his greeting and walked down the hall as if nothing had happened. Once he was gone completely, Happy looked at May. “What was he doing here?”

“He wanted to help,” she answered with a shrug.

Happy laughed. “Him? Wants to help himself is more likely,” he said. “Tony’s tangled with him once or twice. The man’s a megalomaniac. He’s probably taking this whole situation for his advantage.” He shook his head. “But we shouldn’t talk about that. Pepper wants you two to come with me. You’ll be staying at their lake house outside the city until she can smooth things over.”

Hide… that was what they wanted him to do. They wanted him to turn tail and run. If he was that kind of person, he wouldn’t have gotten on that spaceship. He would have gone like he had been told and stayed out of danger. Peter shook his head. That wasn’t who he was; who he _could_ be. He turned his back to them with a soft sigh.

“Pete?” May asked, worried.

“_You_ go to the lake house,” he said to her without looking at them. “I can’t just run from this… I can’t ignore it. _This _is _my_ problem.”

May put her hands on his shoulder and a shiver went down his spine. “No… this is _our_ problem. The moment I found out about this… Even before that…”

_It became our problem. _He knew that was what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. If she did, it meant that she’d be putting the blame on him for this whole mess. It was his fault. No one was denying that; but no one wanted to be the one to point it out. “I can’t ask you—” _to put yourself in danger._

“You aren’t asking,” May snapped. She tightened her grip on his shoulders. “And neither am I.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Be that as it may,” Happy said before Peter could respond. “Right now, you two probably shouldn’t stay here. The press will find out where you live before long and they’ll bombard you. If you insist on staying in the city, we’ll set you up somewhere, but you can’t stay _here. _If you’ve already got Norman Osborn knocking at your door, more sinister people won’t be far behind.”

Peter nodded. “Ten minutes,” he said. “Can you grab the Iron Spider suit and the EDITH glasses?” Happy nodded and hurried to Peter’s bedroom as he turned to his aunt.

She smiled warmly at him. Her ability to smile despite all of this was infectious; but it didn’t make it much better. He was grateful for her. He didn’t deserve her. “We’ll be okay,” she assured him. He nodded. Yeah… they would be okay. It always worked out in the end… always…

In the limo, Peter typed a text message to Ned, his fingers flying over the keyboard on the phone. Happy hadn’t wanted him to contact anyone, but Ned needed to know. He needed to make sure that his friend was okay. He was getting texts and calls from people who weren’t even saved in his phone. They said they would get him a different phone when they got to Stark Industries.

<_I’m fine,> _Ned wrote. _<Are you?>_

_I will be… _he thought, but instead he typed, _<Yeah. Looks like I’ll be staying somewhere else for a few days. Vacation?> _He wanted to brush this whole thing off. He’d need to talk to Happy about making sure MJ and Ned at _least_ were safe. He’d rather Happy and Pepper be getting those guys out of the city.

_<Alright. My mom’s freaking out.>_

_<You haven’t told her anything?>_

_<No.>_

Peter leaned against the back of the seat and let out a long sigh. May turned to him with a soft smile. He returned it; but it faded as they neared the building. There were the sounds of people clamoring and camera shutters coming from outside. “Damn…” Happy grumbled. “I was hoping it would take longer for them to get here.” He slowed down as the car was swarmed by the press. “It’s not far to the front door, you two. We’ll get you inside and then we’ll deal with this.”

“They aren’t on your property?” May asked.

“Not yet, but Pepper will buy this entire block if she has to.” Happy stopped the car and stepped out, shouting at the vultures. May grabbed Peter’s hand.

“It’s fine,” he said with a soft grin. She nodded, telling him silently that she believed it was okay as well. The door opened and Happy pushed back the reporters.

“Let’s go!” he snapped. May got quickly out of the car and Peter followed her without a word. The second he stepped out of the car, he was bombarded with camera flashes and questions. The people of the press shouted at him and shoved their microphones towards his face. May and Happy both shouted at the reporters, pushing them away from him. Happy handed him a clipboard so he could block his face as they made their way through the sea of the press.

“Leave him alone!” Happy shouted. Apparently, he had told May to keep her mouth shut because she said nothing to the reporters… though he was sure she’d be shouting their ears off for heckling him. He clenched his fists and suddenly, his senses shot up slightly. It wasn’t enough to call for action, but it was enough to send shivers down his spine.

He spun, letting May and Happy get a few steps in front of him. Standing amongst the reporters was a man. He wasn’t shouting like the rest of them and he didn’t have a camera or a microphone. He was just standing there, staring through the crowd directly at Peter with what looked to be one good eye and one that he been messed up based on the scars and the glazed pupil. There was a tattoo of a scorpion on the side of his neck. The man locked eyes with Peter and smiled.

A shiver went down Peter’s spine as the man stepped back and disappeared into the crowd.


	2. Watch This City Burn

> Chapter Two: Watch This City Burn

When they made it into the building, Happy quickly locked the door and ushered them out of the view of any prying eyes. Once they were safely in the elevator, Happy pressed the button and the door slid slowly behind them. Just before it could close, someone ran inside. Peter blinked at the woman, but she didn’t speak, so neither did he.

At first it seemed like the ride would remain in silence, but the woman turned to them. “They aren’t giving statements,” Happy said, stepping forward. Peter bit his lip. It was odd to see a regular guy step forward to protect a superhero, but he said nothing and he looked down at his feet, shuffling them.

“I’m not a reporter,” she assured them.

“Regardless,” Happy said, “you shouldn’t be here. This is private property.”

“Let her talk,” Peter grumbled under his breath. Why did it matter? If she wasn’t a reporter, what was the worst she could do? Even if she was a reporter, why did it matter? It didn’t. None of it matter.

“Thank you.” She looked up at Happy and he stepped aside. Peter looked up at the woman and took a deep breath. What did she want? He tried to go over a scenario. Tony had told him about a time another woman cornered him to berate him about how he handled things. The woman stared at him for a moment and then shook her head with a soft laugh. “God… you’re just a kid.”

“I know,” he whispered. What was he supposed to say to that? Yes, he was just a kid. He didn’t need to be reminded of how unqualified and how young he was. He wrung his hands.

“I… I was going to come in here and berate you. I thought… those pictures they released were just old, but you really are just a kid.”

May stepped forward. “Berate him for what?” she asked.

The woman shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” Her stern face fell into a soft expression. “You poor child… I’m sorry this happened to you.” The door dinged and she backed out. Peter didn’t say anything to her. He didn’t know what he could say. He didn’t know why she was mad at him, but it didn’t matter.

Once the door closed, Peter leaned back on the wall, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, May,” he whispered.

“For what?”

He didn’t answer. She knew what he meant. He was sorry this was happening. He had slipped up by trusting Mysterio and now everyone was paying for it. At least he was the only casualty so far. His identity wasn’t safe anymore, but maybe he could prevent the rest of his support system from being in danger as well.

He clenched his fists until the door opened and they stepped out into the main office. The walls were lined with windows and he could see out into the city. It was a beautiful day, and he felt like it shouldn’t be. The day should be cold and rainy; not mild and sunny like it was. The sky should be overcast and dreary like he was.

Pepper paced the room, talking rapidly in her phone. Her voice was stern as she spoke. “I don’t care if the street is public property, they are blocking traffic!” she snapped. After a moment of the other person talking, she scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll get the Avengers right on that!” She hung up with a huff before noticing the people now standing in her office. Her angry face softened as she hurried to them, grabbing Peter’s shoulders. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he said. She turned to Happy, who nodded slowly. Peter didn’t know what that meant and right now, he didn’t care.

Before anyone could say anything, a soft, young voice chimed in. It was a beacon of joy and hope in this messy sea that they were in. “Peter!” He turned as Tony Stark’s young daughter came running towards them. Pepper took a step back to let Peter kneel down to hug the child. Despite everything that was happening, he managed the widest smile as he gathered her in his arms.

“You’ve gotten so big!” he exclaimed. His happy tone wasn’t forced. He was genuinely glad to see her. Not only was he just happy that she was there, he was glad to have someone there who didn’t know what was happening and didn’t know what was at stake. Things were about to get very crazy in his life and it was good to know that someone out there wasn’t wringing their fingers in worry.

His smile faltered as he thought about the woman in the elevator. She had come to berate him… to tell him what he had done wrong. One reason he had wanted his identity safe was because he had liked being anonymous. The people didn’t know where to send their complaints to. He shook his head and tried to focus back in the conversation between the adults in the room. They were discussing their options, and May was saying that he didn’t want to flee.

That wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t want to run, but he wanted May to run and get out of there while she still could. She may think that this was her problem too, but it wasn’t. This was his problem and his alone. No one else had to get hurt for this and he wished they believed that as much as he did. He turned away from the group to give Morgan more attention. “Mom seems worried,” she observed.

Peter nodded. “Yeah… But you shouldn’t worry.” He put her on the ground. “Why don’t you show me some of your new toys?” She nodded and grabbed his hand, dragging him away from the adults. He looked back in time to see May waving good-bye to him before they turned the corner to an adjacent room filled with small chairs where Morgan probably spent most of her days.

After the Blip was reversed, Stark Industries had been working double time to help those displaced by the event. Peter had helped when he could, but his time was spent more on working with the crime fighting side and less with the volunteer work. He sat down on the floor and watched as Morgan showed him different toys that she had. He wished that he could be as carefree as she was. He longed for the days before any of this mattered; when he merely looked up at heroes and worshipped them instead of being one of them.

His mind wandered and that was dangerous. It led him to places where he didn’t want to go. He thought about the consequences of this. He thought about the people who could get hurt because if it. He thought about the people who could die. And he thought about how it would be all his fault.

When his mind found its way back to the present, he was staring at Morgan as she observed him. He tried to offer her a smile. “Hey…” he grumbled.

“Are you sad?”

He sighed. She had experienced loss already; the same loss he had. Kids bounced back, and she had as well, but it had taken her a little while. Now his death seemed so far away; but it was getting closer every moment. “Yeah,” he answered. There was no point in lying to her. He was one bad thought away from screaming and crying and fully melting down. “But… it’ll be okay.” He wanted to say it because he wanted to believe it. Everything _had_ to be okay… because if it wasn’t…

He didn’t want to think about that. He couldn’t afford to think about it. If he spent too much time dwelling on that, then he’d never stop.

She smiled at him. “Okay!” but her tone wasn’t as happy. She knew something was up… even if she didn’t know exactly what it was.

Both of them flinched when the door to the small room opened, revealing Pepper standing in the doorway. She looked tired and worried, but she managed a smile. “Morgan? Can we borrow Peter for a minute?”

The young girl nodded and Peter jumped up to follow Pepper back into the main office. May was sitting down with her hands in her lap and Happy was leaning against the desk. They seemed to be deep in conversation, but it stopped when they noticed that Peter was Pepper were back. May sat up straighter and Happy stopped leaning on the desk. “So…?” Peter asked.

Pepper sighed. “Right now, Peter… you need to leave the city.”

“What?” He took a step back, shaking his head. “No! I can’t do that. I need to—”

“Do what?” Pepper challenged. “There’s nothing _you_ can do about this. We’re in damage control right now, and no matter what we convince the general populace about you, there will be the fringe groups who will always believe you are Spider-man. The only logical solution right now is to get you out of town until we have a feasible way to dispel all doubt.”

He didn’t like it. He’d rather May and MJ and Ned leave town and let him deal with this, but Pepper was right. He had no way to combat this. This wasn’t a fight with his hands. He couldn’t punch his way out of this one. He turned to May. She smiled warmly. “I think it’s the best option as well…” she whispered.

Yeah… They were right. That _was _the best option. “What about my friends? My classmates? Aren’t they all in danger?”

Pepper crossed her arms. “I’ll get them private security until we can clear this whole thing up.” Peter looked away and she walked to him. “Peter… it won’t be forever, alright? We _will_ clear this up. Tony…” she laughed sadly. “He’d never forgive me if I let anything happen to you or the people you care about.”

He decided not to retaliate that Mr. Stark wouldn’t forgive _him_ for the same reasons. He’d let her have this. “Thank you…” He walked to May and grabbed her shoulders before she pulled him into a hug.

Before he could offer any words of encouragement, his senses shot up. “Get down!” he shouted just before a missile came hurtling at the building. Peter hit the ground, dragging May down with him as another explosive was hurled through the now-broken glass. Gas began filling the room and he stood, stumbling forward in the fire. The building rocked as another missile hit somewhere else. He moved towards the shattered window as the wind blew through the opening.

He put his hand on the side of the window, still trying to figure out what was happening… what _had_ happened? When he could finally see through the smoke, his eyes widened as he saw a flash of green before something else flew past him. Vulture…! Toomes? How…? Why? His head throbbed as he turned towards whatever had been thrown into the building.

May was standing up, walking towards him. “May…” he whispered just before the newest projectile exploded, sending him out the window. The shockwave tore through his street clothes and the heat engulfed him like a beast wrapping its mouth around him. He lifted his hand to shoot webbing to save himself, but his vision faded and he fell into darkness as his body plummeted towards the ground.

“Peter…?” He heard the voices, but he couldn’t seem to pinpoint. Where was he? He had been falling. Now…? He opened his eyes, finding himself sitting in a car. “Did you hear me?”

“Y-yeah…” He shook his head. It hurt. Everything hurt. “Sorry…” The person speaking was fuzzy. Everything was fuzzy and too bright. Even though they were in a car, he couldn’t see anything outside the windows. It was like they were sitting in a white void. “What did you say?” Was this real? Was _any_ of this real?

The man in the car laughed. “Always have your head in the clouds. How’s school going?”

“I died,” he whispered. A shiver went down his spine. Saying it out loud felt weird and his blood ran cold.

The man laughed. It was a soft, loving laugh. It almost warmed the chilled blood in his body. It wasn’t a happy laugh, though. It was sad and calm. “You did.” Everything seemed to fade away. Whatever realm he had found himself in was shifting. He didn’t belong here.

“_You_ died…”

“I did.”

“They’re all going to die.”

“Most likely.”

“And it’ll be my fault.”

“Yes.” He paused. Peter couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like it had been crushed. The world that they were sitting in was becoming hot and sticky… like humidity… or blood. The laugh the man in the car made this time was harsh and cold. “Again!”

Peter opened his eyes to the sound of police sirens and shouts. His head throbbed and he felt like he had been hit by that train again. He tried to sit up, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down. “Shh…” a soft voice whispered. “Stay down, kid.” The voice was like it was coming to him through water. He felt like he was underwater. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. He couldn’t find purchase in reality. He turned to the paramedic. He couldn’t stay down. There were people up there that he had to save. He couldn’t just sit there and do nothing! He couldn’t…!

He pushed her hand off his shoulder and sat up, holding his head. The building was engulfed. Firefighters were running around and shouting. It was like a scene from a movie. It felt like it was all going in slow motion. He could hear the fire louder than anything else, even louder than the woman sitting next to him urging him to stay down. He clenched his fists and stumbled to his feet despite the paramedic yelling at him. He ran towards the building, but before he could jump onto the burning wall, his hand was grabbed, and he was spun around.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?” Fury had his arm in a death grip, squeezing it like he was taking blood pressure. Peter stammered motioning towards the building. “You just fell 90 stories and you want to go back up there?”

“My aunt is up there!” Peter finally managed. Sure, he was worried about Pepper and Morgan and Happy, but they were in danger because of Tony. Aunt May was his… She would always be his. He yanked his arm from Fury’s grip. “It was the Vulture,” was all he managed to get out before he jumped onto the building and ran as fast as he could towards the top.

He didn’t even get halfway to the top before the all too familiar whirring hit him like a truck. Suddenly, he was back on Titan, sparring with Thanos with the fate of the universe on his shoulders. The flash was swift, but it was fast enough. He lost his foot and stumbled, falling from the side of the building. Before he got too far, strong metal arms wrapped around him. He cried out in shock or fear, but quickly noticed that the suit holding him wasn’t red and gold; it was blue and silver. Pepper.

“Calm down, Pete,” she assured him. “I’ve already gotten them out.” _While you were unconscious. _He knew that was how she wanted to finish that sentence. “And Fury’s got men in the building evacuating everyone.” She turned their flight away from the building.

“Where are we going?”

“Hospital.”

“I’m fine!” he protested. Pepper wasn’t remotely concerned about it, though. She had a six-year-old, so any tantrum Peter could throw wouldn’t phase her. Instead, he pouted as they made their way to the hospital.

As they landed, Pepper sighed, allowing the suit to fall away so she could step out. “That fall was bad, but we’re not here to drop you off.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Peter…”

His face went white and his stomach dropped. “Where is she?”

Pepper hardly got the room number out before Peter fled into the hospital. With his mangled clothes, he garnered a lot of attention, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t bother with the elevator as he tore up the stairs, taking several in large steps and bounds. If she died… if he lost her too… He couldn’t even think about it. His mind wouldn’t process the thought of her dying. He couldn’t. She couldn’t!

He slid into the hallway and ran down the hall until he was at a door with an officer standing in front of the door. “Are you alright, son?” the man asked. Peter shook his head, unable to speak. He pushed past the man and hurried into the room; but he couldn’t go further than the doorway. There she was, covered in burns and bandages. His breath caught in his throat and his knees shook.

It didn’t make sense. He and Toomes had parted on decent terms. He walked slowly towards the bed. The steady beeping of the heart monitor broke his own heart with every beep. He put a hand on her bed and another hand to his mouth. It wasn’t fair. He should be the one in that bed. He should be the one dead. It wasn’t fair that people had to suffer because of the choices he made. He should have left when they told him to. He shouldn’t have insisted on staying. Why didn’t he listen to them? Why didn’t they listen to him when he said for them to get out of the town and leave him? Then he would have been the one in the bed.

He leaned forward on the heels of his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted to shut it out. He wanted to shut it all out.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch and he spun, ready for a fight. Pepper stood behind him, looking at him with sympathy. “Peter…”

He shook his head and walked away from her and the bed, putting his head to the wall on the other side of the room. She sighed as he put his hands to the wall and pushed, squeezing his eyes shut so tight that it physically hurt. _“If you were good enough…_” The voice echoed in his head, drowning out the beeping of the heart monitor and whatever Pepper was saying to him. _“Maybe Tony would still be alive…” _


	3. Those Nights Kept Me Alive

> Chapter Three: Those Nights Kept Me Alive

Ned sat with his fingers interlaced in front of his face as he leaned forward. Each breath that came filled the small cavity that his hands made. The news footage of the attack on the tower was horrific. The missile strike on the building was shown on repeat along with the footage of a young man falling from the building. The amateur phone footage of Peter’s fall was always cut off before he hit the pavement, but Ned’s imagination filled in the blanks. No one should be able to survive that fall; and even though he knew Peter _had_, his stomach dropped every time he saw the footage.

“Reports are coming in that the young man falling from Stark Tower is Peter Parker, the recently allegedly ousted Spider-man. Eye witnesses claim that the young man got up mere minutes after the near-deadly fall.”

Footsteps behind him made him jump and Ned spun to see his mother walking into the room. He fumbled for the remote, but the damage had been done. She stood behind the couch and watched the TV holding her hands over her mouth. Ned looked back at her and then back to the TV. Ever since returning from the Blip, she had been terrified of something like that happening again. Now they were dealing with domestic terrorist attacks. He couldn’t blame her for being terrified.

“Is he… _really_ Peter?”

Ned nodded slowly. What else could he say? They had footage of Peter falling 90 stories and then getting up from the would-be fatal fall. Now they had nothing to stop the world from knowing who Peter Parker was. “Mom…” he started.

She shook her head and leaned on the couch. “You’ve slept over at his house…! He’s eaten dinner here!” Ned stood from the couch, but his mother shook her head, cutting whatever he was about to say. “He was on that trip and he killed that man!”

Ned shook his head. “He didn’t!” he protested. His mother _knew_ Peter. How anyone who had spent more than five minutes with Peter could believe that he could kill someone in cold blood was lost on him. Peter was a good person and she knew that. Anyone who had been in the same room with him knew that.

“Do you know that?” she asked.

“I know he _couldn’t._”

He turned as his phone rang and he clenched his fists before grabbing it. “Hey, MJ,” he said quickly.

“Ned! Did you see the news?”

He nodded. “I did. Pete’s probably at the hospital. I…” he paused to look at his mother. There was no way that she was going to be letting him out of her sight after all of this. She looked terrified. He couldn’t blame her, but he wished that she would trust him. And she wished she didn’t have that look on her face like she had been sharing her home with a murderer. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and turned off the TV. “Whatever they think he did, he didn’t,” Ned insisted before leaving his mother standing alone in the silence of the living room.

When he was back in his bedroom, he locked the door behind him and grabbed his cellphone, dialing Peter. There was a chance that he didn’t have his phone, but Ned didn’t know what else to do. He’d have to sneak out if he wanted to get away, but he wasn’t Spider-man and he couldn’t scale the side of his building like some superhero.

Pete didn’t answer. That was expected, but also disappointing. He cradled the phone in his hand as the image of Peter’s body hitting the ground struck his mind again. He flinched away from the thought, but it was there and there was nothing he could do about it. His mind would repeat it over and over until he wanted to just scrub his brain of it.

His phone began ringing again and he picked up it. “Ned?” MJ again. “I’m going to the hospital to see him, alright? Can you come?”

“No,” he answered with a sigh. It hurt him way too much knowing that he couldn’t be there for Peter, but he knew that if he left, his mom would be calling the police and her opinion of his friend would dampen completely. “But keep me in the loop and…” he paused and let out a long sigh. “If he needs me, let me know.”

They hung up and he buried his head in his hands with a sigh. His mother was talking to someone on the phone in the other room. “What a mess…”

Pepper had managed to get Peter to let a doctor check his wounds. After they had given him a clean bill of health, she had made sure no one entered the room except doctors. He was huddled in the corner on the floor, pulling his legs to his chest with his chin resting on his knees. Pepper thought he look absolutely miserable… and she couldn’t blame him.

The last few hours were nothing but phone calls to the police, the press, Nick Fury and literally anyone who could clear this up. Peter _didn’t_ kill Mysterio. He couldn’t have. She didn’t know him nearly as well as Tony had, but the way he talked about the kid was like he was describing a saint. Even the way he was sitting in the corner of the room like a soaked stray kitten in winter proved that he wasn’t a murderer. Pepper rubbed her eyes as she stepped out of the room to leave him to his own misery.

Happy was sitting outside the room with Morgan in his arms. While Peter had been falling, she had been getting those two to safety. Happy was banged up, having used his body to shield her daughter. “How are they?”

“Terrible,” Pepper said with a sigh. She didn’t need this right now. She didn’t need _any_ of this; but she was getting it. “Fury can’t do anything to scrub his record and the media have no interest in his side of the story. They want the sensational story.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Young Superhero Turned Murderous Villain. They just want a damn headline!” The politics surrounding this was a disaster. They wanted the next big thing. Surprisingly, the “Blip” was old news, and now they wanted the repercussions of it. They wanted to turn the damn thing her husband died for into some sensational story that was ruining a traumatized kid’s life.

Happy sighed, rubbing Morgan’s back as she slept in the chair beside him. “So, now what?” he asked. He didn’t need this either. Their whole family had been through too many tragedies to go through another one; but this wasn’t _their_ tragedy. It was Peter’s and it was May’s. They owed it to him, and to Tony, to make this better for both of them.

“Now we keep them safe. This attack happened mere hours after the news dropped. He’s lucky they wanted to make a big statement and not a targeted attack.”

“Can’t Fury do _anything_ about this?” Happy asked.

Pepper shook her head. “Ever since the Blip, things don’t work as smoothly for Fury as they used to. World governments don’t get fixed in eight months after five years of destabilization.” She laughed softly. “Not to mention the court of public opinion. Peter’s identity is out of there, and even if we clear his name, or get Fury to make all the phone calls in the world, there’s no way to fix this completely. There will always be people who believed he killed Beck. There will always be villains who will want to do him harm because they can.”

Happy turned his gaze to Morgan. “You think they’d have something better to do,” he said in a hushed voice. “The universe ended, and less than a year ago, they got its heart beating again, and suddenly it’s business as usual. Crimes, murder… you’d think—”

“That they’d be more grateful,” Pepper finished with a slow nod. She sighed. “I guess that means our work is never done.”

“You’re not a superhero,” he reminded her. She looked away. The Rescue suit wasn’t one she broke out very often. It hurt to wear it; not physically, though. She wouldn’t have suited up had her family not been threatened.

“Super?” she responded with a shrug. “Maybe not, but hero…” She trailed off and laughed.

“Hero, yes.”

Before she could respond to that, the sound of feet walking towards them caught her attention. Her stomach didn’t drop until she saw Happy’s face fall. She spun around to see a police officer walking towards them. She clenched her fists as he approached them. “Mrs. Stark?” he greeted with a bit of uncertainty in his voice.

She held out her hand. “Potts.” Her voice was firm and curt.

“Jefferson Davis,” the officer said with a firm nod, taking her hand with a hard grip. “I’m here to speak with Peter Parker.”

“Speak with?” she questioned. “Or arrest?”

Davis steeled his expression. “He needs to be brought in for questioning.”

Pepper stepped towards the man. “You leave that boy alone.”

“Ma’am—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “That boy is nothing _but_ good, and he just fell 90 stories. So, why don’t you give him some time to recover from something that should have killed him?” She released a long sigh, trying to calm down. “How the hell did you even know he was here?”

“A tip, ma’am.” He was trying to stay composed and polite. She knew that if she kept this up, though, she’d end up arrested as well. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, Mrs. Potts. Peter Parker is the prime suspect of a murder investigation and all we want is for him to come in for questioning.”

Pepper stepped in front of the door. “I will bring him by the precinct when he is well enough for it,” she insisted.

“Ma’am, if you don’t move, then I will be forced to move you.” He put his thumbs in his pocket. It wasn’t a dismissive move, but it wasn’t defensive either. “This will all go far more smoothly for him if he, and you, cooperate.”

Pepper sighed and looked over to Happy before turning back to Davis. “That boy’s been to hell and back. He gave up everything to save the world. He gave his _life_ for it and you want to come in here and arrest him because someone thinks he could be capable of drone strikes and murder; cold-blooded murder of an injured man.”

“Ma’am—”

“Do you think he did it?” Pepper demanded.

Davis sighed and averted his gaze. “I… I got my son and wife back because of what Tony Stark did,” he said quietly. Pepper’s breath caught. “I heard that Spider-man was somewhat of an inspiration for your husband and the sacrifice he made. I don’t believe that someone who could inspire anyone to do what he did could be capable of what Peter’s being accused of.” He paused for a moment. “But I have to do my job. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he is treated with the respect and care he deserves, but for now…”

She nodded slowly. This man clearly had some respect for their world. He was probably the best hands Peter could be in right now. “Alright.” She moved aside and opened the door.

A slight breeze drafted through the room and she bowed her head. The curtains were flowing in the breeze of the opened windows and Peter was gone.

Alone.

Peter had never felt so utterly and truly alone. Even when he had woken up after the train and he was isolated, he hadn’t felt _alone. _That was a terrible moment in his life, yes, but it wasn’t like this. As he stumbled down the street in his torn and tattered clothes with a vacant look in his eyes, he felt like he had no one. He couldn’t go home. By now, that police officer would have called in that he was on the run and they were probably staking out his apartment. He couldn’t call Ned or MJ. If he brought them into this, they would be in trouble. Pepper could smooth things over with the police and the city for protecting him. Ned and MJ would end up in prison for it. He couldn’t go to May. She was injured and that was his fault. He literally had no one.

He was garnering attention. People milled around him and did double takes. Some probably just saw his torn clothes and bloodstained skin and were looking at him with concern. Others probably recognized him as the kid from the news. Either way, he didn’t see them as he walked aimlessly through the city. Let them look. Let them gawk. He was now here for their amusement. Any trial he would endure would be nothing but a kangaroo court. A farce. He had already lost in the eye of the public.

He reached into his pocket for his phone, only to find out that his phone wasn’t there. He didn’t know why he thought it would be. Second nature, perhaps.

The familiar sound of police sirens cut the haze in his mind and he flinched. He hesitated just long enough to figure out where it was coming from before he ducked into an alleyway and picked up the pace he was walking at. He didn’t want to just run. He couldn’t run with his injuries anyway. All he could do was duck behind a dumpster and wait.

Once the sirens disappeared in the distance, Peter slid to the ground and sat with his back to dumpster. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He felt sick. He had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. He leaned his head against the metal behind him and closed his eyes, trying to calm his nerves.

He must have passed out because when he opened his eyes again, it was dark and his whole body was stiff and cold despite the summer night. He managed to get to his feet and he stumbled back into the street, holding his arm across his body. By now the manhunt was probably in full swing. Killer Spider-man on the loose. He could see it in the headlines now. He looked at his hands and sighed. No webshooters… nothing. He was without a suit, without clothes… without anything. He didn’t even have money for food. He needed to go _somewhere_ for the night before he caught his death due to his injuries.

His feet took him there before he even knew where he was going. The area was familiar. He had spent many a night there. Ned’s apartment. He couldn’t just go in there, though. Ned’s parents were probably spooked. He looked up until he spotted Ned’s window. The light was on. He crawled up, ignoring the pain in his back and shoulders as he did. When he got to the window, he peered inside. Ned was sitting on the floor with a large pile of LEGO in front of him. He wasn’t working on the build, though. Instead, he stared with a forlorn expression.

Peter took a deep breath. He just needed clothes and then he was gone. He knocked on the window lightly and Ned flinched. His face instantly lit up when he noticed Peter and he quickly moved to the window, unlocking it so Peter could crawl inside.

His entrance into the room wasn’t nearly as smooth as it should have been and it was all he could do not to collapse on the ground. Ned grabbed his arm to keep him steady and he was led to the bed without a word. Peter fell to the mattress and closed his eyes. Neither spoke as Peter drifted off to sleep again, and when he woke, it was in the wee hours of the morning. Ned was sitting at his desk and he had bags under his eyes. He hadn’t slept the entire night.

Peter tried to sit up. “Don’t,” Ned whispered. “You’re hurt.” He did as he was told. He went to rub his cheeks but froze when his fingertips touched his face. It was soaked and at first, he thought that it was sweat; but only his face was wet. Tears? Ned couldn’t meet his eyes. “You were crying in your sleep,” he explained. “I didn’t want to wake you, and you were quiet…”

Peter sighed. He didn’t remember if he had any dreams or not the previous night. He had fallen into a deep sleep. It was probably just as well that he didn’t remember his dreams. They were most likely nightmares. “I need clothes,” he muttered. Anything Ned gave him would be baggy, but it would help to hide his body shape.

“Where are you going to go?” Ned asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Ned stood and crossed the room towards his dresser as he spoke. “You didn’t kill Mysterio, so why don’t you just go to the police and tell them?”

He struggled to sit up on the bed. The night’s sleep had done nothing to help the stiffness in his body. “It’s not just about me or my innocence. If it were, I’d turn myself in. No, this is about something bigger. _Someone_ wants me dead, and whoever that is won’t stop. If I stay in New York, they’ll go after anyone around me.”

“You’re leaving New York?” Ned asked. Peter nodded. “And go _where, _Peter?”

He didn’t know. Somewhere… until he figured this out. He had insisted on staying here and that had gotten May hurt. He had to take this fight out of the city and away from the people he loved. Ned tossed him a t-shirt and a pair of jeans with a belt. Peter managed to struggle to his feet, and he peeled off the remains of the clothes he had been wearing. Ned turned his back to give him some privacy.

“Do you have _any_ plan, Pete?”

“Maybe…” He didn’t want to disclose anything to Ned. They would come to him and Peter didn’t want to put him in the position of needing to keep his secret. It was better if Ned knew nothing. He finished dressing and headed for the window. He needed to be gone before the sun started to rise.

Ned hurried to the window and put himself between Peter and his exit. “You can’t just _leave,” _he implored. “Please, Peter. You don’t have anything; not even money, and I can’t give you anything.”

“I wouldn’t take your money.”

Ned frowned and looked over him before bowing his head, resigned to the fact that he couldn’t do anything. “At least let me get you some food.” Peter nodded and Ned went out of the room. Peter looked at the window. He could slip away; but Ned trusted him to still be there when he got back. He leaned against the window and closed his eyes. This was stupid… _all_ of this was stupid. Where the hell did he think he was going to go?

Ned returned with a few granola bars. Peter took them wit a small nod of thanks. “Ned…”

“Don’t,” Ned snapped. “We’ve got this, right?” Silence. “Right?” Peter nodded. They didn’t have this. Neither one of them did. Ned grabbed him and hugged him tightly. “You tell me when you get where you’re going, okay?”

“Okay.” He had no intention of telling Ned where he was going. “Thank you, Ned. Stay safe, alright?” Ned nodded and Peter gave him one last look before he jumped from the window and started down the street upon landing.

The walk to where he was going was a long and exhausting one. He wanted to avoid public transport and he couldn’t swing. That would have to be fixed at some point. He needed a suit. Running around as a random new spider-person wouldn’t really hide his identity, but he could at least hide his face a little more. The less people saw it, the better.

When he finally got to his destination, the sun was well on its journey to the center of the sky. Peter sighed as he looked up at the familiar building. It had been a staple in New York for as long as he could remember. It used to be a beacon of hope. Now it was a beacon of last resorts. He steeled his nerves and stepped inside, clenching his fists as he did.

He was greeted by an older teen with dirty red hair; not quite red, but not quite brown. He was about Peter’s age; a little older, maybe? He was dressed smartly with a school uniform despite the fact that it was summer. The boy smiled. “Peter Parker, I presume?” he asked taking a few steps in Pete’s direction. Peter took a step back towards the door. This was a mistake. “Calm down,” the boy said. Peter froze just short of turning and running from the building. “My dad’s been expecting you.”


	4. The Road to Ruin

> Chapter Four: The Road to Ruin

William Ginta Riva stood on a balcony of a large chateau situated in Upstate New York, far away from Manhattan and the mess that they were orchestrating. The house was extravagant and a bit too lavish for Riva’s liking. They should be holed up in something less garish, but their mysterious benefactor had insisted they use this building, and Riva wasn’t in charge of this, so he could do nothing but go along with it.

A mechanical whirring caught his attention and he stepped back as Adrian Toomes flew in for a landing. That was another problem that Riva didn’t want to have to deal with. He had no idea why the Vulture was helping them. He had a family to take care of and had done his time during the Blip years. Legal systems had broken down and Adrian had declared that he would do anything to keep his family together.

Now he was aiding a group of terrorists for reasons unknown.

Riva stepped into the office to give the Vulture his space to land the wings. He tried to busy himself with something. He knew what was coming. Before he could get too deep into what he was pretending to do, Adrian came storming into the office, throwing open the French doors with enough force to crack the glass in the door. Riva tried not to wince.

He had known this was coming the moment he saw the news of the attack. “What the hell is your problem?” Adrian shouted, advancing on the smaller man. Riva took a step back. He was used to bosses yelling at him. Having worked with Beck had been enough practice for dealing with the likes of Toomes. What he didn’t like was that he had been duped as well. He had been told the same thing Adrian had. “You said that damn building would be evacuated!” Riva stammered. He didn’t have the answer for this. “And now 100 people are _dead,_ and that blood is on _my_ hands!”

“Our hands,” he reminded Adrian. They were in this together now. Adrian lifted his hand as if he were about to strike, but a cough from another doorway made them both freeze. A man stood in the door with his arms crossed and an annoyed expression across his face. Their mysterious benefactor. He was slightly overweight and didn’t have an air of menace to him. If not for his stance and piercing gaze, one would think he would be better suited in a lab coat or behind a desk. Riva didn’t think that the man looked like someone who could afford this house or this operation, but what did he know? Five years ago, some alien snapped half the universe out of existence. Clearly they lived in a very different world than he had previously thought.

Riva took another step away from Toomes, keeping his head down. He’d rather stay out of this. His hands were already bloodstained. Toomes wheeled on the man in the doorway and he advanced. “Why wasn’t that building clear?” he snapped. “You said we were just trying to scare the kid!”

The man shrugged. It was so dismissive and disgusting. There was something about this man that made him different than Beck. Beck only hurt people if it had been part of his grand scheme. This was wanton murder; and the man didn’t seem bothered by what they were doing. “We’re cracking eggs, Toomes. A few yolks are bound to break.”

Adrian scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yolks?” he repeated. “We aren’t talking about eggs! We’re talking about _innocent_ lives!”

The man rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at the claim. “Since when did you give a damn about innocent lives, Vulture?” Adrian turned his head away from the argument. The man seemed to think that was enough. Riva moved further away from the two. He didn’t want to be anywhere near this if it came to blows. “The building was supposed to be evacuated. However, accidents will happen.”

Adrian clenched his fists without retorting. Riva had to wonder how much the Vulture was getting paid for this. It had to be a lot to drag him back into the world of crime, and to prevent Toomes from ripping the man apart with his bare hands. Riva didn’t know what the man could possibly promise Toomes; but it was something because Toomes simply took a step back and his clenched fist relaxed. “Accidents,” he murmured with a resigned nod, “will happen…”

Peter wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but he didn’t say as much as the boy held out his hand for Peter to shake. It took him a minute to process what he was being told. He took the offered hand cautiously as the last thing the kid said to him finally registered. “Dad…?” he asked, confused.

The boy nodded, shaking Peter’s hand gently. It was like he was trying to do anything and everything to let Peter feel at ease with what was going on. Nothing was going to make him feel at ease about any of this. “I’m Harry Osborn, Norman Osborn’s son.” It took him several heartbeats to fully process any of this. Harry withdrew his hand slowly when Peter didn’t speak to him. “Right…” He shrugged and motioned Peter to follow as he started walking. “Come on, then. Dad wants to make sure you’re set and ready.”

Peter nodded, but still said nothing as he was led through the building to an elevator. He had never been in this building before and he felt that any other time, he’d be excited to be in the Avengers’ Tower. Now, however, it was under extreme circumstances and it was terrifying. His stomach was twisted in knots and he wasn’t sure if he was making the right choice… but it was too late to turn back now. Where would he go, anyway? Back to Ned to wait until the Vulture attacked again? That still didn’t make any sense. He had saved Toomes. Why was he doing this? He clenched his fists as they walked. Harry was talking excitedly to him, but Peter didn’t think any of this was exciting. Nothing about that was worth celebrating.

When they got into the elevator, Harry’s upbeat demeanor fell once he realized that the kid following him was pale and sick-looking. “Hey…” he said, his voice showing concern for his new charge. “I get that this is scary…”

Peter wanted to laugh. Did he really get it? How could he possibly get this? “No, I don’t think you do…” he muttered bitterly. It was a mean thing to say. Harry was trying to help and also trying to make the best out of this situation and Peter could do nothing but be snarky and annoyed.

Harry sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. He looked up to the mirrored ceiling. “No, I probably don’t,” he admitted with a soft laugh. “But I don’t want you to be scared. Dad’s got this covered.”

Peter bit his lip before smiling. He needed to try and act like this was going to be okay. Fake it ‘til you make it, after all. “Yeah… And I really appreciate your help,” he added quickly. He didn’t want them to think that he was ungrateful for their help. He wanted to laugh or cry or do _something_ to make this a little better or a little less awkward, but all he could do was grimace and try and force a smile. May was going to kill him… if he survived. And crying wouldn’t make anything better. He managed a soft chuckle as a thought entered his mind. “Must be kind of cool being in this tower,” he said. He motioned to the elevator. “I spent so long trying to get here, and all you had to do was buy it.”

Harry turned to him with a confused expression before his face fell into a soft smile; and then he chuckled. “Yeah… I suppose so.” With the tension broken a little more, Peter felt more at ease. His shoulders relaxed a bit and he allowed himself to settle into his heels a little more. “So… Spider-man, huh?”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah… Friendly Neighborhood and all that.” It felt weird to have people know who he was; but it also felt like the weight of the world was off his shoulders a little. He held out his arms. The baggy clothes fell off his small frame. Despite his strength, he didn’t have massive muscles. He was still rather lean. “Am I everything you expected me to be?”

Harry observed him for a moment, feigning a scrutinizing glare. And then he laughed. “Honestly, I expected you to be taller. Those clothes are eating you alive.”

Peter smiled. A real smile. The first real one in the past 24 hours. It felt good. “Well, they belong to my friend,” he explained. “The other clothes didn’t really survive that 90-story drop.”

He shrugged with a nod. “Make sense. Do your clothes usually survive fiery explosions and massive drops?”

“The suits are custom made for that,” Peter answered with a shrug. The whole conversation was surreal. His entire life was crashing down around him and here he was, discussing his suits and clothes with a complete stranger without any real weight behind the words. And it felt so good. Harry seemed good at defusing awkward situations.

Before Harry could answer to that, the door _dinged_ and the elevator opened, revealing a large penthouse office overlooking the skyline of New York. This was probably Tony’s main office when the Avengers owned the tower. It was sparsely decorated, but the pieces that had been chosen to adorn the room were a clear sign of wealth and power. The desk on the other side of the room was lavish and was probably solid wood made from some tree that was hard to find. The art pieces were modern for the most part, but one caught his attention. A large gothic statue of a gargoyle was perched on the opposite wall from the desk, staring down at the man sitting there.

A shiver went through Peter’s spine as he stepped inside behind Harry. “Hey dad,” Harry called. Peter hung back. Any ease he had begun to feel in the elevator was washed away. He was the strongest person in the room, but he felt like the smallest one. He averted his gaze to the skyline outside the wall lined with windows. He wanted to be on that balcony. That way, he didn’t feel trapped. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a mistake.

_You’re just being paranoid, _he thought with a slight shake of his head. Just because Beck had turned out to be a monster, that didn’t mean everyone he met were the same. There were still good people in this world. With that thought, though, his mind flashed suddenly to the dark room and the dizzying illusion. His heart rate went up, but he managed to quell the panic attack before it affected his breathing.

When the image cleared, he noticed that both Harry and Norman, who had crossed the room to them, were standing there staring at him expectantly. Peter took a moment to realize that Norman had his hand out and was waiting for him to shake. He did so with a quick apology under his breath.

Norman cleared his throat. “As I was saying, I’m sorry it’s come to this. I was hoping we would work together under… better circumstances.” Peter nodded, distracted. When he didn’t give a verbal reaction, Norman continued. “But we will make due. I take it you want to get out of New York City?”

Peter nodded again, but this time Norman didn’t continue. He wanted verbal confirmation. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Escaping New York seemed to be the best option at the given time. He didn’t know where he would go, but at least he’d go there and figure this all out. Once he got away, he could work on stopping this.

“Very good.” He turned to Harry. “Why don’t you give me some time with Peter, son, and then we’ll discuss your part in all this.”

“Sure.” Harry flashed Peter a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Dad doesn’t bite… much,” he added with a small laugh. Peter responded with a choked chuckle. Norman, however, didn’t seem to like the comment at all. He merely stared at Harry with cold eyes. The son bowed his head and nodded slowly before hurrying out. Peter watched him slink away before turning to Norman.

“Ignore him,” he said with a shrug once Harry was gone. “Harry’s a bit eccentric, but he means well.” He put his arm around Peter’s shoulders and either didn’t feel Peter tense up or he didn’t care. Either way, Peter tried to relax. There had to be a way this all works out. Norman was all smiles as they walked. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Why would he? He had everything and his world wasn’t crumbling around him. “So, Peter, what happened with you and Mr. Beck?”

Peter flinched. “He… I guess he wanted to give the world a new hero. By making up problems for him to solve.”

Norman nodded. “I see… a genius plan, if not a bit too misguided.” Peter wasn’t sure that was what he wanted to hear. He wanted Norman to be as disgusted by what Beck had done as Peter was. “And you didn’t kill him?”

“It was an accident,” he defended a little too hotly. He hadn’t meant to aim a drone at Beck. All he had done was keep himself alive. Beck was in the strike zone. He knew the dangers, and he had done it anyway. That was what he told himself. That was how he slept at night.

“Of course it was. Self-defense and all.” Norman didn’t sound like he didn’t believe Peter. If anything, he sounded dismissive about it all. “Now, I think you need to get as far away from Manhattan as you can. I would send you to California, but you’ll have a new set of problems there.”

“Out of country?” Peter suggested. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the United States again.

Norman shook his head. “No. Fleeing the country will add to your list of problems. Fleeing the state is bad enough, but we’re beyond that. No, I’m thinking Georgia or Texas for the time being.”

“Georgia?” Peter, for having gone to Europe and space, hadn’t really explored the United States as extensively.

Norman nodded. “Not too many heroes down south,” he said with a shrug. “Of course, it might be better if you go somewhere _with _heroes.”

Peter stopped and Norman took a few steps before he realized that the kid he was helping wasn’t with him anymore. “I’m not doing anymore hero work out there,” he said quickly. “I need to lay low.”

“Hero work will keep you lose,” Norman argued. “It’ll help keep your mind off things until I can figure out how to help you here. I’ll make some phone calls. Besides, I need some help with a few things. You and I will have a bit of a mutual agreement. Symbiotic, if you will.”

Peter shook his head and followed Norman down into another elevator. The ride was quiet. Neither spoke. It was awkward and Peter tried not to look at Norman; but the man was watching him like a hawk. He tried to not see it and Norman tried to pretend that he wasn’t watching. Peter didn’t know if this was what he wanted. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go out there and be a hero right now. He wanted to lay low until this resolved. Now the man that was offering to help him was also forcing him to go back out there and be a hero when he wasn’t ready for that. It was like he was being drafted into the military.

When the door to the elevator opened it opened, they stepped into a lab. Peter gawked at the technological marvels of the room as he was led through. Norman was talking and Peter wasn’t hearing any of it. All he could do was look at everything that caught his attention. There were military grade weapons, but also things that looked like they would be helpful to people instead of just harmful. It was almost like walking through Stark’s lab. He hated that he was making that comparison, and maybe it wasn’t a fair one, but that was where his mind went.

Norman paused at another room and opened the door. Peter stepped inside ahead of Norman and he shut the door behind them. When he turned on the light, there was a suit in the room on a mannequin. “If it odd that you have a suit read for me?” he muttered. It felt like it should be odd; but he had made a suit for himself on the flight from the Netherlands to London. Norman could have easily whipped something up while Peter was sleeping at Ned’s apartment.

The man smiled. “Perhaps it is a bit odd.” He motioned to the suit. “Take a look.”

Peter nodded and walked towards the mannequin. The suit looked almost like something that a base jumper would wear. It seemed bulky, but he didn’t say it. The fabric making up the suit was pitch black with silver highlights on the joints and silver stripes on the contours. The metallic color was also on the webbing beneath the arms and between the legs, making them look closer to a bat’s wing. The faceplate lacked Spider-man’s distinctive eyes and instead of a separate face, the silver markings extended from the wings and covered the face with straight vertical lines.

“It’s bulky,” Peter said. It was rude, he knew, but it was all he _could_ say. He didn’t particularly like it, but at least no one could mistake this suit for Spider-man.

Norman nodded as if he were expecting that. He walked to the suit and pressed a black button on the left palm. The webbing that he was sure was supposed to be for gliding folded in on itself and vanished, leaving the spandex runner’s suit. Better, but not perfect. “It will take some time to get used to the interface and we’ve taken the liberty of modifying a set of webshooters for you. They won’t leave behind your trademark webs, however.”

Peter walked up to the suit and put his hands on it, running his fingers over the textured fabric. It was advanced. He put his hand on the face, tracing the smooth texture of the silver markings as it contrasted with the rougher spandex-like skin. He could feel where his eyes would lay and he was sure the suit had the ability to see without the eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. It felt weird and this suit wasn’t a Spider-man one, but it would do… wouldn’t it? Norman didn’t seem to notice Peter’s hesitation as he stepped away to give the boy a moment. “It’s not called Night Monkey, is it…?” he asked with a soft laugh.

Norman didn’t even spare him a chuckle. He missed Tony and his willingness to humor Peter’s attempts to lighten the mood. “We call it Dusk,” he said with a shrug. He patted Peter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you try it on and we’ll discuss where we’re sending you.” Peter nodded and suddenly, he was alone in the room with the silver and black costume. Getting it on was fairly easy, as it used the same technology as Stark’s suit of being baggy until he had gotten inside. Once on, he looked down at his hands and the silver lines that traced his fingers, meeting each other at the palm like small rivers converging in a lake.

A lump formed in his throat and he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. Usually getting a new suit meant something incredible was about to happen. He was about to save the day or jump into a spaceship to fight a mad Titan. Now, however, it meant he was going into hiding. It meant that his life was being turned upside-down and shaken to the core. It meant that he was losing everything. And it sickened him.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he could see how the suit moved and how sleek it was. The black fabric was almost Vantablack, which made the contours that the silver markings highlighted seem sharper and more elegant. It moved well. He was worried about how it would do in the sun. It seemed like it would cook him alive, but he was sure Norman had figured out how to keep him from overheating.

He moved his fingers on his left hand to press the silver circle in the palm and suddenly the interface of the suit sprang to life. “Hello,” a voice said. It wasn’t Karen’s voice. Peter wasn’t even sure why he had expected “suit lady” to talk to him. He missed her. This voice was male, and it was calm and soothing. Peter didn’t like it. “Retinal Scan complete. Good morning, Peter Parker.”

“Morning,” he muttered unenthusiastically.

“I detect an elevated heart rate. Are you currently in danger?”

He was getting used to the tightness he was feeling in his chest. Was he in trouble? He didn’t think so. He _was_ in danger, but not at this very moment. “I’m fine,” he told the suit.

“Very well. I have stored today’s vitals check.” The voice, despite being designed to put him at ease, wasn’t helping the weight in his chest. “Would you like to go over the suit functions, Mr. Parker?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Not right now.” He reached up and grabbed the mask, pulling it gently off his face. As Norman walked back in, Peter stared at the faceless mask with its hard silver lines. Dusk… A fitting name, he supposed.

“It looks good,” Norman said with a wide smile. Peter returned it to the best of his ability. “You and Harry will leave immediately.” He motioned for the door and Peter followed after him, still clutching the mask as if his life depended on it.


	5. The Parting Glass

> Chapter Five: The Parting Glass

Riva hated superheroes and supervillains. He longed for the days when super soldiers were a thing of the past and the weirdest thing he had to worry about was Obadiah wanting a suit of armor to fight Stark. He had seen enough maniacal freaks in his life to know that this only led to death. He stood on the balcony, clenching the stone railings enough to dig into the flesh of his palms with the roughness of the stone. Inside, deep in the bowels of the chateau, his employers were discussing their plans; plans that he didn’t really care for and wanted nothing to do with.

Movement caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes, gripping the railing even tighter. The car moving up the driveway was an unmarked but very expensive black vehicle. Riva shook his head. It looked almost like a car Tony Stark himself would have had trouble procuring. The car stopped at the gate and it opened slowly to let in the driver.

Riva tracked the movement of the black vehicle, keeping his eyes narrowed in thought. It was armor-plated. Not just for show. The thing was built like a tank. Vibranium, perhaps. With the King of Wakanda dead and half their forces decimated, the Blip gave way to mercenaries and smugglers entering the small African nation for its wealth of untapped materials. Even with their diminished forces, not many got out of the country alive; but some, the best, did. The person pulling up in the car was the best.

The car parked several hundred yards from the front door of the house and the driver’s door opened, revealing a tall woman with long dark hair dressed in a black blouse that almost resembled a suit jacket and a long, tight skirt. Riva watched with mild interest. He wanted nothing to do with this. He laughed to himself. If that was true, then he wouldn’t be up there keeping watch. The woman moved like a panther as she walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger side.

Out stepped a hulk of a man. Despite it being summer, even if they were upstate, he was wearing a lavish animal skin coat that had the hem just barely hovering over the ground. His physique was intimidating and Riva watched him like a hawk. The way he surveyed the yard was that of a predator. Even from his perch, Riva could tell that this man was taking in every detail. Just when he thought that the man was finished, he turned his piercing gaze to the balcony where Riva was observing him. He flinched and backed away from the railing as he put his hand to the communicator in his ear. “He’s here.”

“Well, welcome him,” came the soft, soothing tone of their benefactor. Another reason Riva hated these superpowered types was their tendency to like their privacy. The man calling all the shots had not told them a single thing about himself. They didn’t know his name, his motivations… _nothing. _All they knew was that he wanted the Spider dead. Riva had no idea why. He hadn’t been face to face with Peter, but Beck hadn’t _wanted_ to murder Peter and only made the choice to once he had no other option.

Riva walked down the stairs and met the man and his lady companion in the grand foyer. “You must be Rivera,” the man said. His accent was thick and Russian; rolling the “r” in “Rivera.”

“Riva,” he corrected, holding his hand out in greeting. The man took it. His grip wasn’t too hard, but there was controlled power behind even the simplest handshake.

“Apologies,” the man said with a nod.

“No need,” Riva said, shaking his head. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Kravinoff.”

“The pleasure is mine.” He indicated to his partner. “This is Calypso.”

“A pleasure.” Riva didn’t like any of this, but what did he care? The only reason he wasn’t in prison right now was because Mysterio had died a hero and no one in their building was willing to rat him out; as long as he was useful. He cleared his throat. “Right this w-…” he trailed off and his body went rigid as a low growl came from just outside the door. The door was pushed open and a massive, magnificent lion stepped onto the cold tile floor. Riva thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. The lion was big; bigger than he was sure lions should be. There were tuffs of black fur in the animal’s mane.

Kravinoff laughed at Riva’s paling face. “Do not worry,” he said with a smile. Riva didn’t find any of this funny… but, again, what did he know? He motioned the Hunter and Calypso to follow him through the empty halls of the chateau. “How much do you know of this job?” he asked.

Riva shrugged. “Have you ever read _The Most Dangerous Game_?” His tone was laced with dark humor. There was no greater game than this.

Kravinoff paused a moment to think. “Richard Connell?” he asked, turning to Calypso for conformation. She nodded. “Yes. Most hunters have read this text.”

Riva paused at a large door and took a deep breath before opening it. Their benefactor sat at the end of a long room, flipping through some paperwork as he did. “Welcome to the game…” Riva whispered as he stepped aside. Kravinoff nodded his thanks and walked to the prepared seat for him. The woman remained outside with the large cat and once he was sure she wasn’t coming in, Riva shut the door and stood in the corner.

“Hello, Sergei Kravinoff,” the man behind the desk said with a weary grin. “Thank you… for coming all this way.”

Kravinoff nodded. “It is no trouble,” he said. “What is the job? What beast am I hunting?”

“A spider.”

The man slid a file on the desk and pushed it to the hunter, who took it carefully. He opened the manila folder. Riva wished he could see the man’s face. “I see…” He studied it for a moment before closing it gently, resting his hands on the closed folder. “Before you hire me, you must know that I am no assassin. I am a hunter. I play this game fairly.”

The man smiled. “I understand,” he said, his tone even; but there seemed to be a level of excitement hiding underneath those words. “I want this to be fair. If I just wanted him dead, I have plenty of men in this very house that could end his life without a second thought. I’m hiring _you_ for a reason.”

Kravinoff nodded slowly, thoughtfully. He didn’t move at all. “And that reason is…? Do you want me to kill this boy?”

He shook his head. “No…” His response was curt and biting. “I want you to _hunt _this boy.”

“I do not—”

He raised his hand, silencing the hunter. “I want you to track him down like the beast he is. Chase him. Stalk him. Hurt him. Make sure he can’t go anywhere without constantly looking over his shoulder. Make him feel what true terror really is. I want you to _hunt_ him.”

Kravinoff opened the file again and went back to studying it. The man behind the desk was practically drooling with excitement while the hunter was quietly and calmly studying what Riva could only imagine was a picture of Peter Parker. “I do not usually hunt… humans,” he said. He didn’t sound opposed to the idea. Curious, and maybe a bit apprehensive, but not horrified. He lifted his eyes to the man. “And after I hunt this spider… you want me to kill him, yes?”

He shook his head more firmly this time. “No… After you’ve tormented him… haunted his dreams and made him fear every dark shadow, I want you to bring him to me… _alive._”

Kravinoff stiffened at the request. His spine went rigid and straight. “What do you intend to do with the boy?”

“I want to see the look on his face as I skin him alive.”

Riva shuddered. Beck had given Peter a quick death. Had Peter been normal, that train would have obliterated his body before he even knew he was dead. This man… this man was horrifying.

If Kravinoff was disturbed by his employer, he didn’t show it in his body language. When he spoke again, his tone was guarded and measured. A smart move. “Clearly… this is personal,” he said, measuring his words carefully. “Might I ask what this boy has done to deserve such a fate?”

“That boy… that _creature… _took everything from me.” He smiled. “So, I simply want to return the favor.”

Harry Osborn was an excitable young man. Peter was glad to have someone with a lot of energy on his side, but he wasn’t following anything that Harry was saying. Peter tried, but he couldn’t. He was too busy thinking about how he should call Pepper and let her know that he was okay. He stopped and it took Harry several heartbeats to realize that his newfound charge had left him. “What’s up?”

So nonchalant… Peter smiled. “You know, the usual. Life falling apart. Just another day in superhero life.” Harry frowned, leaving Peter’s smile to fade. “I should call Pepper Potts,” he said in a more serious tone. “I want them to know I’m okay.”

Harry shook his head. “Dad wants you to go dark completely,” he explained. “Says it’ll be better if no one knew where you were.”

“Are you saying—”

“No… You _can_ call them if you want.” He gestured to Peter. “The Dusk suit has your contact list built in.” Peter didn’t want to know how the Osborns got his contacts. “If you want to call anyone, we can’t tell you that you can’t.” He paused with a sigh. “But it’ll be better if you didn’t. They could be in danger just knowing that you’ve skipped town.”

Peter nodded. That made sense. He felt his throat tighten and his breathing come quicker. “I… uh… I’ll be right back.” He slipped away into a room and shut the door behind him. He found himself in some kind of a dark lab and he leaned against the door, holding a hand to his chest. The need to shout was almost overwhelming. He dug his fingers into the black fabric of the Dusk suit. “Don’t panic,” he whispered to himself. Panicking would do him no good. This was only temporary. He wasn’t leaving for good. He’d be back. He’d see them again. He _had_ to see them again.

“Mr. Parker?” the suit inquired. Peter nearly jumped out of the suit. His breath came in a short, sharp gasp. “I have startled you.”

He shook his head with a gasping laugh. “N-no… It’s fine.” He had gotten used to talking to AI’s like they were people. “I’m sorry… What do you want?”

“Your heart rate is elevated again. Are you in danger?”

“No.” He didn’t mean to get snappy with the AI. Of course, it wouldn’t be bothered by his attitude. “I’m not in danger. I just need to calm down.”

“Oh… a panic attack?”

“No, not a panic attack!” Peter snapped at the voice. He sighed. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Mr. Parker.”

“Peter.”

“Would you like me to change how I address you?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

Peter leaned his head against the wall and laughed softly. He was arguing with a suit voice over how it was supposed to address him. It was absurd what small things bother you in the midst of a crisis. There was no reason why he should care what the suit called him. It could call him Night Monkey and he shouldn’t care. He smiled and dropped his head into his hands, taking deep breaths. He had to beat this… but this wasn’t a fight he could just _win_. He couldn’t punch his way out of this. He had to trust Norman Osborn and Pepper Potts to make this go away. “Wouldn’t it be better if I just faced trial?” he asked the suit. “I mean, once they see how loveable and witty I am, they won’t think I’m capable of committing murder.”

“I do not think your ability to tell jokes correlates with your ability to commit murder,” the suit said dryly. “Many famous murderers had rather charming personalities.”

Peter laughed. It was a good sound and it actually made him happy to hear it come from his throat. Was he sure that this AI wasn’t made by Tony? “Oh, you have jokes, Suit-man?”

“It was not a joke.” 

“I know,” Peter said with the end of his joyous laugh. “Just… give me my moment.”

“Of course.”

As much as Peter didn’t want to admit it, the suit was right. He wasn’t going to win this by making the public like him. He had seen smear campaigns turn the nicest people in the world into hated figures… and he had seen the most abhorrent people turned to media darlings. He needed to trust people who were better equipped for this kind of fight. This wasn’t his level of expertise. “Thanks, Suit-man.”

“You are most welcome, Peter.”

He was sure the AI didn’t even know what it had done. It had merely stated facts… but Peter’s heart rate had slowed significantly, and his chest didn’t feel as heavy. It had helped him feel better about his situation. That was something a lot of people had been trying to accomplish; and a random AI had done it for him.

He stepped out of the lab and Harry was waiting for him with his arms crossed in a relaxed pose. He smiled at Peter. “Atlanta,” he said.

“What?”

“Dad wants us to go to Atlanta, Georgia. He has a branch down there and we can hunker down for a little while. Not for long, though. We’ll move to Huston in a couple weeks.”

“Weeks?” Peter asked, cocking his head.

Harry nodded. “This won’t go away in a few days. Dad says we need to keep moving.” Peter leaned against the door behind him. The next semester was starting up in a few weeks. He had a _life_ outside of being a superhero. He had wanted a life outside of it. That was one reason why he had wanted his identity a secret. He didn’t want his life ruined by being a hero. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Perfect. I suppose I should be used to my life being ruined by this job.”

“I suppose so,” Harry said with a shrug. He pushed off the wall and Peter followed him down the hall. “We aren’t taking a plane,” he continued. “A bus will be less conspicuous and more anonymous. Dad thinks there’ll be people after you pretty quickly.”

“What about my family?” Peter asked. He didn’t much care what happened to him as long as May was safe.

“I assume either dad or Mrs. Potts will be keeping your family safe.” He shrugged. “As for your friends… Probably the same treatment.”

“Good.” Harry led Peter into another room where he was given something to wear over the suit. It was another school uniform; long sleeved and pants. Peter felt like he would die of heat stroke long before a heart attack got him. He put on the uniform and stared at himself in the mirror. Aunt May could have never afforded to send him to a fancy private school. Midtown was a magnet science school, but it still wasn’t a private academy. He ran his hands over the royal blue sweater vest. He was wearing the uniform of a school he didn’t belong to over a suit that didn’t belong to him.

Harry stepped into the room and Peter watched him through the mirror he was staring at as the other boy leaned carelessly against the doorframe. “Why didn’t you just let Stark pay for tuition?” he asked.

Peter flinched. The question was probably innocent to Harry’s mind. Why _hadn’t_ May just taken Stark’s money for a better school? It was probably an obvious solution to Harry. People who had never had to “go without” probably had no idea what it was like to accept charity. “She wanted to do it on her own,” he said with a shrug. He couldn’t blame her for it, and he respected her for that choice. He was sure the conversation had come up between her and Mr. Stark at least once.

Harry nodded slowly. “I get it.” He didn’t. Peter could see it in the way he shook his head almost unnoticeably. Maybe being rich meant you looked at people who had pride as just being stubborn. He didn’t want to argue the point, though, so he kept his mouth shut as he turned to Harry and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Harry nodded and the two headed out of the room. Peter followed him silently, gripping the mask in his hand.

He was getting tired of following people everywhere. Any other day, he’d be geeking out about all of this. It seemed right up his alley. Instead, he just felt like a little lost puppy.

Harry led him back into Norman’s office and the man rose to meet them. He studied Peter with a critical eye as he walked towards them. Harry took a step back and averted his eyes after giving Peter a nod of encouragement. Norman paused with arm’s length of Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, sir,” he said with a forced grin. Norman’s laugh was genuine. Harry’s wasn’t.

“That’s all I can ask for at this point,” he said, patting Peter’s shoulder. “The uniform is one of Harry’s. Just keep your head down. Have you ever been on a highway bus, Peter?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had been on an airplane. He’d been to Europe. Hell, he’d been to _space. _Norman Osborn had probably never been to space before. He didn’t need to be talked down to by a man because he didn’t have money. Peter didn’t voice that, though. There was no point in angering the person putting himself in danger to get Peter to safety. “Yes, sir…” he answered instead. “Now, my family…”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Don’t worry about them. I will contact Mrs. Potts and let her know that you are alive in under my protection until further notice. If she decides to tell your aunt, then I won’t stop her. However, I feel it would be in your best interest not to contact anyone without me knowing about it.” Peter looked away. “I understand that this is hard, Peter, but please try to understand my position as well. The more people who know I’m helping you, the more dangerous it is for me, them, and you. The less people who know, the better.”

“I understand,” Peter whispered, keeping his head down. Norman reached down and lifted Peter’s chin to meet his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone,” he reiterated.

Something flashed in Norman’s eyes. Peter couldn’t quite place it, but his Spider-sense sent a shiver down his spine. The flash was almost like hunger. He didn’t react to it and the moment between them passed. “Smart young man,” Norman said with a smile, turning to Harry. “Keep me posted and call me when you get to Atlanta.” He handed Harry two tickets and itinerary. “Your bus leaves at eleven and I expect you there at 10:30, barring any traffic jams.”

Harry took the papers gingerly. He seemed like a different person around his father. He looked at the itinerary and frowned. “Transfers?” he asked. Norman nodded. “I suppose that’s to be expected.” He pocketed the two tickets and turned to Peter. “We should get going. It’s a ten-minute walk to the terminal.” He waved to Norman and then they got into the elevator in silence. Harry leaned against the back of the small room once the door was shut.

“You and your dad…” Peter started, but a look from Harry stopped the question in its tracks. Peter backed down. “I was just wondering,” he muttered sheepishly.

Harry was quiet for several floors before speaking again. “It’s complicated.” His tone was quiet and guarded. Peter could respect that.

“Yeah… my life’s pretty complicated, too,” he said with a soft laugh. “Trade?”

Harry smiled. “Sure. How hard can it be being a superhero whose life is falling apart?” Peter looked away. Hearing Harry say it was surprisingly harder than having it play out in his mind time and again. Harry seemed to notice the change in Peter’s demeanor. “Look… I’m going to say that I understand, and other people are going to try and say it as well. But I _know_ I don’t get it. I have no idea what you’re going through. I can’t possibly know. But… I want _you _to know that I’m here for you. Dad is here for you. We may not get what’s going through your head, but you have to let us help you. You have to trust us.”

Peter said nothing as the elevator finished its ride. Harry’s words played in his head as they walked down the street after picking up the bags waiting at the back door that had been prepared for them. He mulled over the short speech. They didn’t know. They couldn’t possibly know. Regardless of what Harry had been through in his life, there was no way that his life could compare to the hellhole his life was turning into. Or… was he jumping to conclusions?

His mind flashed to his accidental reading of Flash’s texts when he was trying out EDITH. Just because he was rich, that didn’t mean he didn’t have hardships. Maybe, Peter thought, he was being a bit too judgmental. Both Norman and Harry were going out of their way to help him. They were putting their reputation, and maybe even their lives, at risk to help someone, and they weren’t asking for anything in return.

The bus pulled up and they were loaded in under assumed names. The bus was nice. Nicer than the plane. Each seat was a large and wide recliner with curtains separating each seat for privacy. The seats to their left were rows of one. More privacy than any plane Peter had been on. The seats to their right were in rows of two. Peter had never seen an overnight bus before. Just because he had gotten annoyed at Norman’s question, it didn’t change the fact that he, indeed, had never been on a highway bus. As they settled in their seats, the two in the back on the right, Peter turned to Harry. “I do,” he said quietly.

Harry looked at him, scrutinizing his words. “Hm? Do what?”

“I trust you.”


	6. Are We the Hunter?

Chapter Seven: Are We the Hunter?

Buses were boring. Peter stared out of the window, watching the landscape go by. They had left the city a couple hours ago. Harry was good enough company, but after the first few stops, he had pulled out a laptop and started typing away. Peter had looked over just long enough to see that he was working on some sort of schoolwork. It felt surreal that they were on the lam and Harry was sitting beside him working on some sort of summer school project. All of this was surreal.

“So…” Peter mumbled a while after the fourth stop.

Harry looked up from his paper. “Hm?”

“Were you…” He sighed and looked down at his hands. “…blipped?” It was weird how that was a conversation starter. Blipped… they had come up with a nice way of asking if someone had died and been resurrected.

Harry smiled. It was a weak, tired grin, but Peter appreciated the attempt. “No,” he said.

“So… you were what, twelve when it happened?”

Harry nodded slowly. Peter tried to imagine what it would have been like for a young child to try and comprehend that had happened. Maybe this wasn’t the time to bring up such a dark topic. He had spent the better part of eight months trying to forget what had happened on Titan… the way his Spider sense had screamed at him when it happened. He shuddered and looked back out the window. “My dad wasn’t blipped either,” Harry continued, probably figuring that Peter had started the conversation for a reason. “You were… weren’t you?”

Peter closed his eyes and nodded. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said with a shrug. Harry didn’t need to know that he had cried and begged not to go. He didn’t need to know that Peter’s spider sense had shot him so full of adrenaline and fear that he was physically unable to move or even think. When it happened, there was only a singular thought in his mind; “I don’t want to go!” Harry didn’t need to know that. “Kind of just like going to sleep.”

“I was in class,” Harry whispered. Peter heard it in his voice; the hollowness of remembering something traumatic. “My teacher had just called roll. I don’t remember much after that… except screaming. The three kids left in my class… and then the teacher, who just broke down in front of us.”

Peter put his hand to his chest and felt his heart beating rapidly and unevenly. He regretted starting this conversation. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s fine.” By his voice, Peter could guess that it _was_ fine. Harry had had almost six years to process what had happened. “It was probably worse for you. Dad made me see a therapist for a while, but the nightmares stopped eventually, and I poured myself into my school work. It fell away… eventually.” He paused, and then put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Did you see Thanos?” he asked. “Like… when he did it?”

“No,” Peter said quickly. He didn’t want to talk about the Titan. To most of the people on Earth, Thanos was practically a god incarnate. He was this otherworldly force that had entered their planet and had decimated it, along with countless lives. They had been so _close_ to stopping it… Peter shut his eyes. “I was off world,” he muttered.

“Oh…”

He had to wonder if this was weird for Harry to be sitting there talking to a superhero that had gone toe to toe with the mad Titan like it was nothing. He often wondered what it was like to be on the other side of the Blip. The side that just had to accept that it had happened without any real context. He had tried talking to other people about it, but most of his friends had vanished alongside him and the ones who hadn’t didn’t really want to talk about it. Harry was rare in his openness about the experience.

Harry flashed him a slight smile. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I bet this isn’t something you wanted to relive. For me, it happened six years ago. I’ve been able to process this. For you, it was last year. The wounds are still fresh, right?” Peter nodded. “I figured.” He shut his laptop after saving the document. “It’s funny, isn’t it? That we can just have a conversation about half the universe population dying?” He shook his head with a soft laugh. “Dad said that it was just a thing that happened; that we shouldn’t dwell on it. We did a lot of charity work to help displaced families. I volunteered for a lot of grief circles, making coffee and listening to people cry their stories to me.”

Peter shook his head slowly. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear any of this. He didn’t want to know what they had gone through. He didn’t know if the Blip had been worse for the victims, or the survivors. Either the vanishing or the returning. Surely it was bad when people came back. Instead of voicing any of that, Peter just smiled with a soft laugh. “I wonder how the history books are going to treat all of this.”

Harry blinked and then he seemed to understand that this was an attempt to lighten the mood. He then smiled. “I have no idea,” he said with a laugh. “Imagine telling our children about the Blip.”

He smiled. “They’d think we’re crazy.” It was true. It wouldn’t matter how they swung it. It would never sound normal or even possible to the next generation. When things didn’t happen in your lifetime, they were foreign ideas that didn’t make any sense. Of course, now he was sitting with someone his age who was too young to remember a pre-Attack on New York world. “Or, maybe not… Who’s to say we won’t go through worse by the time we have kids?” he asked with a shrug.

Harry laughed. It felt good to joke about all of this. When you couldn’t laugh about things, you risked being overwhelmed by them. Peter leaned against the back of his seat and smiled as he turned back to the landscape. He still needed to call someone and let them know that he was okay, but for now… now he could relax. Harry started typing again and the steady _clack-clack _of typing lulled him into the best sleep he had gotten since coming back from Europe.

Peter woke to someone gently shaking his shoulder. “Hey…” Harry whispered. “I didn’t want to wake you, but we’re transferring.”

Peter looked out the window and sighed. It looked to be early evening. He stood shakily and Harry helped him out of his seat. Once out of the bus, he stretched to get feeling back in his feet. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, breathing in the hot air around them. When he opened his eyes, Harry was gone off somewhere. With him out of sight, Peter went into the bathroom. “Suit-guy?” he whispered.

“Yes, Peter.”

“Call Ned Leeds.”

“Of course.”

The phone rang for several rings before a hesitant voice answered. “Hello?” Ned whispered.

“Ned!” Peter greeted. Ned’s voice was a sound for sore ears.

“Pe- Peter?” He lowered his voice. “Where are you? Are you okay? Man, I’ve been worried sick about you! What happened?”

Peter laughed. The worry in his voice was kind of endearing. He felt bad about feeling like that, though, so he pushed those thoughts down. “I’m fine. I can’t tell you where I am, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if no one knew I was okay.” He leaned against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. “I wasn’t supposed to call you. If you could delete this number that would be great.”

Ned sighed. He remained silent for a moment. Peter didn’t want to rush him. Ned probably thought that he was crazy. He was trusting people that he didn’t know while they were trying to keep him from contacting anyone else. “And you’re sure you’re okay? You’re safe?”

Peter nodded. “For now.” He didn’t mean to sound cryptic, but he didn’t want to sugarcoat it. “I really am okay. I have someone backing me up, and I hope this all gets cleared up soon.”

He could hear it in Ned’s voice when he spoke. Worry… distrust. “Are you sure you can trust whoever this is? They have your best interest at heart?”

“I think so.” Again, he didn’t mean to sound like he was suspicious of the Osborns. He would never be able to repay them for what they’ve done thus far, but he didn’t want to sound too hopeful. If this all went south, he’d prefer that Ned and the others prepared themselves for the worst. “I have to go, Ned. Just… please let May and Pepper know that you heard from me, okay? And MJ. Please.”

“Will do, Peter.” He didn’t sound convinced and Peter was reluctant to break contact with his friend. They needed this… they needed to feel like everything was going to be okay; because he didn’t feel that way. “Just be safe, okay?”

“Yeah. You, too.” Peter hung up and looked at the ceiling, staring at it blankly. He hated making them worry. The door to the bathroom opened and Peter jumped as Harry stepped in. “There you are. Come on. The bus is about to leave us!”

He nodded and ran after Harry as they jogged to the waiting bus. Harry presented the man with the tickets and they got to their seats. Harry took the window seat this time and Peter dug out one of the books that Harry had brought. He settled into the seat and began reading the autobiography of a man who had survived the Snap and his harrowing account of the plane crash that followed after the pilot and most of the flight crew vanished.

People didn’t think about that… those left behind after it. There were people who surely had died because someone important had vanished into dust. Peter had been reluctant to look up the statistics on it. How many people actually died to the Snap that weren’t part of the initial equation? They called him the Mad Titan, so maybe he didn’t think about it when he did it. Peter didn’t know… and didn’t _care_ to know.

When the bus came to their next transfer, Peter was sleeping again having only gotten a few chapters into the book before dozing off. Harry again woke him gently and they were ushered out of the bus. It was dark and Peter rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?” he asked sleepily. He hadn’t seen the itinerary. The back of his neck tingled and he rubbed it. His spider sense shouldn’t be going off then. As far as he was concerned, they were safe. No one knew where they were.

“Tennessee,” Harry answered with a yawn. Peter shrugged. Made sense.

The sensation didn’t go away as they shuffled to the waiting bus. In fact… it was growing stronger, moving from the back of his neck to his skull. “Harry…” he whispered. With just that warning, a lion -wait, lion?!- lunged at them through the trees surrounding the small bus station.

Peter didn’t even have time to question the logistics of a _lion_ attacking them in the middle of the night in the South Eastern United States. He shoved Harry out of the way and spun to meet the lunging beast, catching its jaws in his hands, mere centimeters from his face. He could feel the lion’s wet, hot breath on his face and smell the stench of death and decay. “I’m not looking for a pet!” Peter snapped, redirecting the animal’s weight to his left. It had the ground with a loud grunt.

“Go!” Harry was shouting at the people at the bus station. Peter hoped he hadn’t given away his identity by stopping the animal’s attack. Luckily, it was dark, and people were more concerned with getting the Hell out of Dodge than looking at the kid who had just caught a charging 500-pound lion.

The lion stood from where Peter had discarded it. It circled him like a shark, keeping its head low as it growled softly with each exhale.

“Peter,” the suit announced. “Your heart rate is elevated. Are you—“

“Yes!” he said quickly as he whipped out his mask and shoved it over his face. The lion froze in front of him, digging its claws into the dirt path. Peter tried not to think about those claws ripping through his flesh. The suit came to life and suddenly the dark bus station lit up through the night vision. He could see every excruciating detail of the animal that he didn’t want to see; the way the muscles rippled beneath the large cat’s skin, the way its jaws were parted to smell its prey. Peter smiled nervously. “Nice kitty… Want some milk?”

“Shall I make a suggestion?”

“I don’t want to hurt it,” Peter muttered to the suit.

“Electric Webbing with netting,” the suit suggested.

He shook his head. “Fine! Set it to stun.”

“As you wish.”

As if waiting for its cue, the lion roared and lunged. Peter had just enough time to dodge out of the way as the animal clawed where his head was a breath before. He put his hand to his heart, but instead of the now familiar sense of panic, he was smiling. This was easy. This was something he could handle. It was a lion… in Tennessee. It didn’t make a lick of sense, but it was tangible. This was a problem he could handle with his fists. It was familiar. He turned to face the beast and smirked.

The animal eyed him just a moment before charging again. It was like fighting a bull. Peter jumped over the animal, putting his hand on the cat’s back. There was power beneath the ash brown fur. Even though his life was in danger, Peter was in awe of the animal. It spun on him and swiped. He managed to web the cat’s paw before the claws ripped through his suit.

The swipe was still powerful, and it still took the wind out of his lungs, but he managed to land his jump and then perform a few backflips to put some distance between him and the lion. The webbing that he had used on the paw sparked and the animal roared in pain, tearing at the sticky stuff. It managed to rip off the webbing and it stood without putting any weight on the now injured foot.

Before either one could move, a loud whistle broke through the night. The lion fell out of its menacing stance and stood at attention. Peter didn’t relax. The lion was a majestic animal and when it didn’t have its head lowered, it was regal. A slight breeze rippled through its mane.

A hint of movement behind the animal caught Peter’s attention. He cocked his head. Was there another lion? He hadn’t been given time to think about it, but everything he knew about lions told him that it was the females who did all the hunting.

His sense shot up and he spun in time to see a net coming at him. He tried to duck and roll, but was too slow. The net fell over him and mechanical stakes burrowed into the ground at the corners. Peter turned to see a man walking towards the net. “My, my… I thought you’d be harder to catch,” he said, his voice thick with an accent. He clicked his tongue. “What a shame. I was hoping for challenge!”

Peter struggled with the net, but every time he moved, electricity shocked him.

“Name’s Kravinoff. But you may call me Kraven.” The man motioned to the lion behind Peter. “I see you have met Gulyadkin. You like?”

“I’m more of a dog person,” Peter mumbled. He very discreetly moved his hand to aim his webshooter at the corner.

Kraven laughed. “I found that dogs are loyal to a fault. Always telling them what to do. Lions are hunters and need no guidance from man.”

“Yeah, but you can’t have a lion in an apartment,” he argued.

“True,” Kraven said with a faint, thoughtful nod.

He had managed to move his hand to aim without alerting the net to shock him. He was about to be in a world of hurt, but if he could short circuit the netting… “What do you want?”

“I am a hunter; you are a superpowered being. I suppose it was only matter of time before we crossed paths.” He studied Peter for a moment. “Though… I have never seen you before. Your suit would make this difficult in the dark.”

Peter smiled. “Yeah, it would.” He braced himself and fired his electric web. The net holding him down suddenly sprung to life with blinding light. During the flash, Peter managed to keep his wits long enough to get onto his feet and aim a roundhouse at Kraven. His foot hit a wall of muscle stronger than he was expecting. He had held back the kick, expecting Kraven’s stomach to give way like most normal humans he fought. His foot was grabbed, and he was pulled back and thrown towards the jaws of the waiting lion.

Peter twisted in the air like a cat and fired his webbing, creating a tightly woven net. It landed on Gulyadkin, wrapping around the lion’s head. The light show that resulted blinded Peter momentarily and he slammed into Gulyadkin. The electricity that he had intended for the cat coursed through his own body, convulsing his muscles.

Now was the time for a “shocking” joke, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work as he pushed away from the lion and into the hunter’s waiting fist. He punched harder than Peter was expecting, throwing him back. He rolled with the punch and used his sticky powers to stop his backward momentum. “So… do you plan on like… mounting my hide or something?” Peter asked.

“Perhaps. But you too are skinny and would not look good on my wall.”

“Are you always this jovial when you’re trying to kill someone?” Peter asked.

Kraven smiled at him. “Are you always this comedic when you are being threatened?”

“Makes it easier to fight.”

He nodded. “I suppose it would…!”

A horn honked, startling both Peter and the hunter. They had just enough time to turn towards the oncoming headlights as the car came barreling towards them. With no time to dodge, Kraven merely went limp a moment before the small, four-door car slammed into him. Peter looked inside the vehicle, cocking his head.

“Get in the car!” the man inside snapped.

“Who…?”

“Get in the damn car!”

The window rolled down on the backseat. Harry stuck his head out. “We need to _go, _Dusk!” Peter looked back at Kraven long enough to watch him struggle to stand before he opened the car door. Harry slide over just in time for Peter to jump into the car. Before he could even get the door shut, the driver gunned it, driving backwards and then did a sharp turn and took off.

“We can’t leave these people with that maniac and his cat on the loose!” Peter snapped.

“He’s after _you,_ not the people,” the driver clapped back. And then he laughed, shaking his head. “Bleeding heart… No wonder Mr. Stark took you in.”

“Mister…?” He got no answer as the driver got onto the main road and merged into traffic.

“You can take the mask off, Peter,” he said after a while. Both Peter and Harry froze. That surprised Peter more than the driver knowing Peter’s name. He had assumed that Harry knew this person. But, he obviously didn’t. Peter reached up and removed the Dusk mask. “It’s good to see you again, Pete. I didn’t think Tony’s funeral was the time to introduce myself.” He looked up in the rearview mirror and smiled. “Name’s Harley Keener. It’s nice to finally meet you formally.”


	7. Or Are We the Prey?

Chapter Seven: Or Are We the Prey?

Peter kept his eyes forward even as Harley explained that he had contacted Pepper after Peter’s identity dropped. Peter didn’t want to hear any of this. “You okay back there?” Harley asked, cutting off his explanation.

“I just got attacked by a lion… in the south eastern United States,” Peter answered. “_Should_ I be okay after that?”

Harley shrugged. “Did you get hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“No…” In truth, Peter had some electrical burns, but the wounds were nothing compared to what he had suffered in the past few weeks. “I just… it’s a lot to take in,” he admitted.

Harley sighed. “I guess Tony didn’t talk about me much…” He sounded dejected, but Peter wanted to point out that this wasn’t a contest. He shifted awkwardly. “But don’t worry. I called Pepper when I thought you needed help. You need a place to lay low, don’t you?”

Before Peter could answer, Harry leaned forward. “We’re on the way to Atlanta.” He held out his hand. “Harry Osborn.”

Harley didn’t take the offered hand. “I know who you are, Mr. Osborn.” His voice was bitter and almost angry, but it didn’t lose its polite undertone. Harry pulled his hand back and settled back into his seat.

“I guess Stark told you about my family.”

Harley shrugged, keeping his eyes forward on the dark road. “Tony had his reservations,” he admitted. “But during the Blip years, he didn’t want to deal with them. Every opinion I have of your father and his company are mine and mine alone.”

Harry scoffed. “It’s not like Stark Industries did everything in their power to make life better for those who were left behind,” he snapped. Harley’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and Peter remained silent. These two lived through that five-year gap. Peter hadn’t, leaving him without an opinion. “Oscorp at least did something. I volunteered at grief circles. What did you do?”

“Oscorp is a corrupt enterprise that took advantage of people’s pain and grief for their own benefit,” Harley said quietly. Peter turned to Harry. He was fuming and his face was red with anger.

But instead of retaliating, he deflated in the seat. “I need to call my father and let him know there’s been a change of plans. If you could please get us to the nearest airport, we’ll take it from there.”

The silence following the request hung heavily in the room. When he did speak, Harley’s voice was quiet and guarded. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for Peter thus far, but he needs to be with people who care about him. I hate to break this to you, Osborn, but I don’t trust you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, but it was Peter who managed to speak. “Harley,” he started. “With all due respect, I don’t know you…”

“You don’t know the Osborns either,” he argued.

Harry butted into the conversation. “We don’t need you, Mr. Keener.”

“I just saved you!”

Peter sank lower into his seat as Harry continued speaking as if he hadn’t heard Harley. “Peter wants to stay with Oscorp! We are doing everything in our power to help him, and we aren’t about to let some backwoods—”

“_Backwoods?”_

Peter felt like he was in the middle of an argument between two parents. He looked down at the mask in his hands and sank even lower in his seat even as the back of his head began to buzz.

“Just because I’m from Tennessee, that doesn’t mean—”

“We should ask Peter what he wants!”

The buzzing was getting stronger. _Run…_ He clenched the mask tightly. His heart rate was beginning to accelerate. “Guys…”

“Peter doesn’t _know_! He’s confused and scared!” Harley argued.

“Don’t act like he’s an infant!”

_Run! Hide! _“Guys…!” The yelling in the car stopped. He slipped the mask on, preparing. “Something’s—” _coming. _He didn’t get that word out before another car came from a perpendicular street and t-boned them. The car went careening forward, spinning wildly. The other car hadn’t even attempted to brake before the collision and its headlights were off. This wasn’t an accident. The world slowed as glass shattered around them. Peter braced, but he knew that he would be fine. It was the other two in the car that he needed to worry about. He used his feet to adhere to the floor of the car and he fired webs, securing both Harley and Harry to their seats.

His senses went off again, but he could do nothing as a second car rammed into them. This time, their car went flying. Peter’s eyes widened. Even with the webbing, Harry and Harley’s chances of surviving this accident were slim to none. As the car flew, he lunged out of his window. Now above the car, he fired webbing to make a cushion, leaving enough slack so that the car didn’t come to a dead stop too quickly.

When he landed, his senses again screamed _watch out_, and he spun in just enough time to see a green tail slam into his face, throwing him back across the road. He let his body go slack so that the roll didn’t hurt too badly, and he came to a stop against a tree, cracking it. He stood slowly and cocked his head, unsure of exactly what he was seeing. He was certain there was a man there in the middle of the road, but he was crouched on the pavement, resembling how Peter crawled on walls. He looked to be wearing a green suit of armor with red, bug-like eyes and a long tail coiled behind him. The stinger on the end of the tail dripped with a green liquid so potent that it almost glowed in the moonlight.

Peter touched the side of his face and winced at the cut. He pulled his fingers down to see that they had specks of the green liquid on them. His eyes widened even as his head began to swim and the world around him started to blur. Poison?

The reaction to the newest threat was sluggish and he barely had time to do anything before he was pinned down by a lion. If this had been any other day, he would believe that he had been injected with a hallucinogen because lions weren’t indigenous to the United States. He held up one arm as Gulyadkin bit down, digging his teeth into Peter’s flesh. He realized his mistake just as the lion started shaking him like a ragdoll. He hung limp, allowing it to happen. He heard his flesh tear. Using his free hand, he shot a web at the cat’s eye. He roared, dropping Peter, and he rolled away as Gulyadkin clawed at the webbing.

He rolled again as a spear landed where his head had been. Kraven came at him swiftly, grabbing the spear. It was all Peter could do to keep his opponent at bay, parrying when he could and dodging for his life every other time. The arm that Gulyadkin had used as a chew toy hung almost uselessly at his side as he fought, and his vision was still blurry. Either the poison wasn’t particularly potent or he hadn’t been injected with enough to make that much of a difference.

“Don’t… you have better things to do than beat on kids?” Peter asked as he jumped away.

Kraven laughed. “No! You are exquisite prey!”

“Are you going to eat me?”

“Why would I? You would be stringy and too gamey!”

Peter narrowed his eyes as he backed away from Kraven. He had been expecting Kraven to be mortified and disgusted by the thought of cannibalism, but he seemed more concerned about how Peter would taste than he was about the moral implications of consuming a fellow human.

Before he could utter anything, the Scorpion came from behind, aiming a kick. Peter jumped into the air and backflipped over the roundhouse kick, landing several feet behind the new challenger. “Come on! Ganging up? Two-on-one isn’t fair!”

“Life ain’t fair, kid!” Scorpion snapped.

“Yeah, I figured that out.” He leapt into the air and landed nimbly on the telephone wire on the side of the road. “I also figured my first super villain team-up would go about this well…” He spared a glance to the destroyed vehicle that still held Harry and Harley, and he silently prayed that they were okay. He’d have to deal with these two before he got them to a hospital, though.

“Come on, kid!” Scorpion teased. Kraven was quieter, watching Peter like any predator would watch its prey.

“Suit guy?”

“Analyzing…” Peter looked down at them and as he did, the interface surrounding them changed. Scorpion’s armor lit up. _Maker Unknown, _it read. It scanned the liquid from the stinger. Neurotoxin. Peter shuddered. The suit suddenly lit up red in many places. Weak points. The scan on Kraven was less helpful. _He’s just a guy, _Peter thought. Now that the element of surprise was gone, he could get the man down. The lion was the same.

“Give me the stickiest webs we’ve got.”

“Certainly, Dusk.”

Peter lunged into the air, using his strength to propel himself forward towards Scorpion. Using both hands, ignoring the pain, Peter aimed at the weak points, firing globs of sticky web into the seams of the armor.

As he landed, Gulyadkin was after him within seconds of hitting the pavement. Peter jumped into the air and used his webbing to brace himself as he propelled forward, slamming the bottom of his feet into the cat’s head. He used his momentum to launch in the air. Gulyadkin jumped up after him and Peter fired several thick globs of webbing on the ground. “Electric,” he commanded. Gulyadkin landed heavily on the pavement and the webbing that was waiting for him. Peter shot an electric web on the cat’s back. He roared in pain and dropped to the asphalt below.

Peter landed lightly on the other side of the street to survey his work. Scorpion, as predicted, was fumbling with the webbing and the lion was unconscious on the ground. That just left Kraven. He stood there without emotion on his face. “You are not bad,” he said with a nod, moving his eyes to his two downed companions. His emotionless face broke into a devilish, gleeful grin. “This is good! I do like a challenge while hunting!”

He ran at Peter, moving faster than expected. Peter barely managed a dodge. The toxin in his body mixed with the blood loss from being bite by a lion was slowing him down. He jumped and dodged the best that he could while Kraven came at him with his spear, swiping with precise movements. In horror, Peter realized that Kraven wasn’t just trying to kill him, he was trying to do so without damaging Peter’s body too much. He wasn’t trying to whittle Peter’s strength down, he was aiming for swift strikes that would end this in one blow.

Peter was on the defensive as he ducked and weaved out of the hunt’s way. One hit and he knew he was going down. One mistake and he was done. Peter flipped out of the way, using his good hand to fire webs. Kraven avoided them with expertise. “Marvelous!”

_ATTACK! _

Peter didn’t have time to react. He just had time to see the green tail slam into his face, sending him to the ground. He stared up at the night sky upon landing. Blood trickled from his nose. The only sound was the blood pounding in his ears and the sound of his labored breathing. Kraven came up to him and reached down, grabbing a fistful of Peter’s suit in one hand and lifting him effortless over the ground. The spear was discarded. He pulled out a hunting knife instead.

Peter stared at him through the eyes in the mask. Did Kraven want to watch the life leave his eyes? What kind of hunter was he? Did he enjoy watching his prey die? Peter could do nothing as Kraven put the knife point to his heart. Swift and with less mess. It made sense.

Instead of stabbing him, however, Kraven dropped Peter. He sank to his knees, dazed. Kraven sheathed the knife and picked up the spear, calling to Scorpion. “What…?” Peter called weakly. Now that the fight was over, the toxin and blood loss was causing him to sway.

Kraven didn’t even looked back at him. “You are weak now,” he said. “There is no honor in killing a mere child in this state.” He stopped at Gulyadkin’s unconscious form and he bent down, lifting the cat without so much as a grunt.

“Where are you going?” Peter demanded.

“The hunt continues.” And with that, he disappeared into the woods. Scorpion was slower in following, hissing at Peter before vanishing after his partner. Peter closed his eyes and crashed onto the pavement.

The following hours were a blur. The road they were on was deserted. Eventually, after passing in and out of unconsciousness, when the sky was just beginning to grey in the earliest start of dawn, headlight illuminated the horrific car crash scene of twisted metal and blood. The tires squealed to a halt followed shortly by the sound of feet running towards him.

He pushed himself onto his hands and knees as a woman fell to her knees beside him. He coughed. The few hours had been enough time to wash the toxin from his system and hope of rescue reinvigorated his body. “I’m fine,” he managed. He pointed to the car where Harry and Harley still were. She ran towards the car, calling to someone from her own vehicle to call 911.

Peter stood shakily and hurried after the woman. She was using her phone to look inside and he grabbed the door of the car, ripping it off while the metal screamed back at him in protest. The woman hung back, confused, as Peter crawled into the car. “Vitals,” he told the suit.

He waited for the answer, fearing the worse. By this point, the webbing holding them had dissolved. “Both inhabitants are alive,” the suit reported. Peter’s whole body felt weak with relief. He did nothing to get them out.

The woman got to her car and handed Peter a water bottle. He lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth and he sipped the water gratefully. Neither one of them spoke in the fifteen minutes it took for the paramedics to arrive. Peter was carted to the back of one ambulance while the first responders got Harry and Harley out of the car. They were banged up, but the webbing had kept them from major injury.

A paramedic came up to Peter. By that point, the woman who had found them had been shooed on her way and his two companions were securely in ambulances. “Can I see your arm?” Peter hadn’t been the best patient since they had come. He couldn’t explain where he had gotten these wounds. He had bite marks on his arm that he shouldn’t have. He presented the injury to the woman and she studied it. “This didn’t happen in the accident,” she said in a tone so matter-of-fact, Peter was beginning to think that maybe lions _were _indigenous to the South Eastern United States.

“No,” he confirmed with a nod. He gestured to the costume. “I assume you’re well acquainted with my line of work.”

“You saying this accident was part of your work?” she asked, skeptical.

Peter didn’t know why she was skeptical. This wasn’t something out of the ordinary for this day and age. Maybe twenty years ago, when costumed freaks weren’t as commonplace as paramedics and firefighters, it would be unbelievable. Now it should be business as usual. “I’m saying my enemies attacked them,” he said with a nod. “And I got these wounds in the ensuing fight.”

She examined his arm. “We just don’t have a lot of superheroes down here,” she said with a shrug. Peter looked away. “You guys tend to stay up north or west.”

“Yeah, well… powers can happen to anyone, anywhere,” he said without looking at her. “Sorry for being your first resident superhero.” He paused and sighed. “Are they going to be okay?”

“They should be.” She looked down at him. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” he said without taking a beat. That was how old he _should_ be. He pulled his hand back. The suit began healing itself. That was handy. He jumped down onto his feet from the back of the ambulance and nodded. “Thank you, but I really should be moving on.”

She didn’t argue with him. “But don’t you want to see how your friends are?”

Peter bowed his head. He was hurting them. They were risking everything to help him and he was just putting them in danger. He had already done that recently and he couldn’t stand to do it again. However, he knew that Norman Osborn had not only agreed to help Peter, he probably expected Peter to keep Harry safe during this journey. He couldn’t abandon Harry. “Alright.” He jumped back into the ambulance and she jumped in after him, sitting on the opposite of him as the vehicle moved on.

“I guess it would be too much to ask for you to take off your mask,” she said. He hoped that it was because she didn’t like the silence, and not because she felt like he would actually remove the mask.

“Our identities…”

“Are sacred,” she finished. She looked up. “Have you heard about that one who just got his identity revealed?”

“Spider-man,” Peter grumbled, subconsciously lowering the pitch of his voice. “Yeah… poor sap.”

She scoffed. “He deserved it, didn’t he? What he did to Mysterio…”

“You actually believe the Daily Bugle?” Peter asked. There was more bitterness in his voice than he had originally intended.

She looked at him, studying his costume. “You don’t?”

Peter wanted to take this time to berate the hack news source, but he kept his mouth shut. If he advocated too hard for Spider-man, she might get suspicious. “I just don’t like to think that someone who had given so much to help people would be the kind of guy who killed just for the right some stupid glasses.”

She shrugged. “Who knows what he went through out there? If he wanted to be the next Iron Man, maybe he was willing to kill for it after the hell he’s survived,” she said, letting those words hang heavily between them. Peter put his hand to his chest and closed his eyes, happy for the mask. Not only had Mysterio taken his future, he had tainted his past. Now, the name Iron Man brought chills down his spine. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer. No, he wasn’t. Beck had taken everything from him… everything for something so petty. How could someone have such a grudge against the people who saved the entire world? The entire _universe? _

By the time they made it to the hospital, Peter was finished with the paramedic. He said his thanks and jumped out of the vehicle. Harry and Harley were given beds and Harley was awake when he got there. “You okay?” Peter asked, hanging back.

Harley stared at him. “I figured getting involved might lead to this,” he said quietly. He didn’t look too banged up; and for that, Peter was grateful. “Pete… I know you don’t know me…”

He lifted his hand to silence Harley. “You were right,” he whispered. “I _am_ young, and I _am_ scared, but I also have a job to do. This is what happens when people get involved. I’m leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Harley smiled. “If I cared about getting hurt, I wouldn’t have gotten involved at all. Tony would want me to do everything I can to keep you safe.” Peter looked away. “You can’t do this alone, Pete. You don’t know me, but I do want what’s best for you… and the Osborns…”

“_Are_ what’s best,” Peter argued. “You didn’t seem the people who are after me. Hell, the whole world thinks I’m a murderer! I can’t ask you—“

“You aren’t asking,” Harley snapped, cutting him off. “And neither am I. If you are going to continue this with Oscorp, then I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Peter lifted his head to argue, but Harley plowed through without giving him an edge to speak. “I’m along to this ride, _Dusk, _and you are just going to have to live with that.”

Peter bowed his head and clenched his fists tightly. “You’ll die,” he whispered, barely audible.

When Harley spoke again, his voice was quiet and resolute. “Then I’ll die.”


	8. Making Wishes in the Dark

> Chapter Eight: Making Wishes in the Dark

Riva remembered a time before Iron Man. He remembered when superheroes weren’t commonplace. When Tony Stark had uttered those fateful words, “I am Iron Man”, he had ushered the world into a new era that no one had been ready for. Super soldiers and aliens were things that no one knew a thing about. It was once science fiction. Now it was reality.

Adrian Toomes was across the room from Riva, working with the vulture wings. Riva watched him with mild interest. He had helped make the suit better, along with the Scorpion technology. He missed the days before Stark had revealed his identity. He had no love of his old bosses, and he hadn’t been too broken up about Beck’s death. Their world was a jumbled mess of legends and gods mingling with humans. It was a damn mess.

“So,” he said, quietly fishing. Toomes didn’t acknowledge that he had spoken past a soft grunt. “Peter Parker really screwed you over by turning you in.” He didn’t know why Toomes was here. When he had been told to track down these people, Toomes seemed like the last person who would take their offer. Maybe he could get the older man to open up about why he was even here. “You must really hate him.”

Silence hung in the air between them like a hot, humid day. Riva could almost feel the uncomfortableness in the room. He knew that Toomes didn’t like him. Toomes didn’t like any of them. He was the only one here who didn’t seem to have any sort of personal vendetta against Spider-man. If anything, he was reluctant. Why was he there?

Toomes didn’t speak for so long, Riva thought that he wouldn’t answer at all. When he did finally make a play at answering, there was so much hatred and anger in his voice that it was shocking. “Peter Parker is a good kid,” he said, his words slow and measured. “He came back and saved my life even when he didn’t have to… when it would have been easier for him to just let me die. He doesn’t deserve anything we’re doing to him.”

Riva stared calmly at Toomes. That wasn’t the answer he had been expecting. “Then why are you here?” It seemed like an obvious question. If Toomes had no real qualms with Peter, then why would he risk everything to torment the kid and then kill him in the end? He knew the endgame of this. Peter wasn’t walking away.

Toomes finally turned to Riva. “Why are _you_ here?” he asked, pointing to the man. “You’re not like us. You don’t fight. Hell, Mysterio was Quinten Beck, not you. What’s your story, William Riva?”

Riva shrugged. It was true. He didn’t care about Peter Parker. He didn’t have some personal reason to be there. He didn’t care that Beck had supposedly died by Peter’s hands. He knew for a fact that the kid didn’t hurt Beck; not any more than he had to, at least. He didn’t have a reason. Not one that they would understand, anyway. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” He avoided Toomes’ sharp gaze. “After working under Obadiah Stane and Quinten Beck, there wasn’t much else I could do. There aren’t great jobs opportunities out there for ex-terrorists.”

“No one knows that Beck was a terrorist,” Toomes pointed out with a shrug, turning back to his work. Clearly, he didn’t care what the answer was.

Riva turned his gaze to the door. “True. But no one knows that I worked for him either.”

Toomes laughed softly and went back about his business without another word. Riva waited patiently for him to answer his question, but it quickly became clear that the Vulture had no intention of telling him anything. His reasons for being part of their villainous band were his and his alone. After several minutes of silence between them, Riva stood and walked down the hallway, leaving Toomes to his work.

As he walked, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Riva,” Kraven said on the other end. He sounded pleased. “Please tell your employer that I have begun the hunt.”

“That’s great,” Riva murmured. “How’s the kid?”

Kraven laughed. “He is great fun.”

Riva sighed. That wasn’t what he meant. How had “the kid” faired in the fight? Kraven wasn’t supposed to hurt him too badly. “I’ll let him know…” He hung up, not wanting to hear anymore about Kraven’s most dangerous game, and then descended down the staircase leading down into the basement of the large house. It was musty down there, but that was where their benefactor liked to work, so that’s where he often disappeared to. He paused at the bottom of the steps. The man was moving in the dark further back. The light was on further back, but the shadows were harsh and all he could see was a figure moving around in the darkness. “Sir,” he called. “Kraven has reported in.”

The figure froze and he assumed that he had been turned to. “How goes the hunting?”

“Well,” Riva answered. He squinted his eyes as the man moving towards him. The silhouette was off. There was something odd about the way he walked. “He didn’t give me much detail.” _I didn’t _want_ much detail, _he added silently.

“I don’t expect him to. I don’t want a play-by-play. I just want to see that little brat’s face when he’s absolutely terrified of anything that moves.” The man turned to Riva. “You’re a man of science and mechanics, aren’t you, William?”

Riva nodded slowly, cautiously. What did that have to do with anything? He thought they had brought him on because of his familiarity with the Mysterio tech. He hadn’t come here to be their mechanic, even if he _had _upgraded Vulture’s tech. “Yes,” he answered with hesitation in his voice.

The man seemed amused by Riva’s hesitation. “Come here a moment.” He complied, walking towards the man with little confidence. Lights came on as he advanced into the cellar and he froze at what he saw. The man was wearing some sort of harness over his belly. Connected to the harness were four mechanical arms that snaked and moved on their own. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Riva was speechless. The arms were incredible pieces of hardware. “What are they for, sir?” he finally managed to stammer.

“I developed them to help people with motor issues,” he explained. Riva blinked. That sounded familiar. He remembered reading an article in some science journal a few years back… before the Blip; before half the universe was decimated.

The name of the scientist had stuck out in his mind upon reading the journal. It had been ironic… almost too good to be true. “Doctor Otto Octavius…?”

Ned Leeds didn’t like any of this. He tried to go about his business, but the thought of Peter being out there by himself made him physically ill. The worst part was that he could do nothing about it. He couldn’t help Peter or May. All he could do was avoid his mother and anyone else who might ask him questions. He walked down the streets with his hands stuffed firmly in his pocket.

“Ned!”

He stopped walking and turned in time to see MJ jogging towards him. “Hey…!” he called. He had given her a phone call, but he didn’t tell her that he had gotten a call from Peter. They weren’t really friends. He didn’t know what to say to her.

She stopped a few feet from him, seemingly understanding the awkwardness of this entire situation. “Have you heard from Pete?”

Ned looked away from her, keeping his head lowered and his eyes down. Peter wouldn’t want him spreading it around that they had talked. He would like it even less that during their phone call, Ned had tracked his signal and he knew that Peter had been moving on a bus. That, coupled with reports of a lion attack in Tennessee, had confirmed where Peter was. “I have,” he whispered. Peter was in trouble… and not the normal kind of trouble. He was being attacked.

She frowned and waited for him to speak again. When he didn’t expand on it, she urged him. “Well? How is he?”

“Not good,” he admitted. “I think he’s in trouble, MJ… Like, _real_ trouble.”

She didn’t answer for a moment. He didn’t expect her to. What could they do about it? They were just two kids with no superpowers. They had nothing to their name; nothing at all. Then MJ smiled. “We’re FoS’s,” she said with a resolute nod. “And we’d be poor friends if we didn’t do anything to help him.”

“Help him?” he repeated. What were they going to do? Get Pepper involved? If she knew where Peter was, soon everyone else would know where he was. He had run to keep them all safe. They’d negate everything if they told Stark Industries where Peter was. There was a manhunt going on for Spider-man. Even if Pepper _did_ help them, she would go to prison for not immediately giving the police his location, even if he was innocent in the end. They were minors, but she could be facing five years in prison for concealing Peter. “How are we going to _help_ him, MJ? What can we do?”

She looked up at the sky in thought and then nodded. “I have an idea.” She grabbed Ned’s arm and dragged him to the side of the road where she hailed a taxi. She shoved him inside as she pulled out her phone and told the driver an address that Ned didn’t recognize. They didn’t discuss anything in the cab as they rode. Ned wasn’t even sure how they were going to pay for this.

Eventually, they left the slummier side of Queens and entered the ritzier part. He cocked his head, finally recognizing the neighborhood. He’d been here. Liz Allen had lived near here. “Why are we going to Liz’s house?” he whispered to MJ.

“We aren’t.” The cab stopped in front of a large house and they exited as MJ handed the cabby the bills to pay for their ride. The man shrugged and drove off, leaving them to stare at the house. Ned had so many questions and he wasn’t sure which one he should start with, so he started with none. Instead, he opted to follow MJ up the path leading to the house. She was confident as she walked up to the door and knocked. A moment later, a butler opened the door. He looked down at them.

“May I help you?”

“Is Flash home?” MJ asked.

Ned turned to her sharply. Flash? They were getting _him_ involved? How? And why? The butler shut the door and disappeared back into the house. “Are you crazy?” Ned snapped. “Why him?”

She smiled. “He’s got money,” she said with a shrug. “He can get us where we need to go discreetly.”

“He _hates_ Peter!”

“But he admires _Spider-man._” MJ pointed out in such a matter-of-fact tone that it made it hard to argue with her. Ned turned to watch the door until it opened, revealing Flash’s face. He was confused for a moment and then that confusion turned to annoyance.

“What do you nerds want?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms.

MJ was undeterred. She stepped forward, crossing her arms. “We need your help.”

Flash scoffed and looked away from them. “Why should I help you?”

“Spider-man needs _our_ help,” Ned said before MJ could speak. Flash’s interest visibly peaked, but then he relaxed back against the door frame. Ned didn’t know what they really needed Flash for, but if MJ had dragged them here, that meant that she had an idea, whether Ned understood it or not.

Flash looked anywhere but at them. “Is it true what they said about him?” he asked.

“About Mysterio or about him being Peter?” MJ asked.

“Both.”

“No… and yes.”

“MJ!” Ned gasped. They weren’t supposed to be spreading this around. If this wasn’t cleared up, any hope Peter had of having a normal life would vanish.

She turned to him. “If we’re going to get his help, he needs to know everything.” She turned back to Flash. “Look, we know where he is and we need to get there, and if we go to the Starks’, his location will be revealed within twelve hours.”

He didn’t say anything for several minutes. Ned was about to tell MJ that they would be better off going to someone else for help when Flash spoke. “Peter Parker… is Spider-man?”

“Yes,” MJ answered with a nod.

“_Peter… Parker?_”

She sighed. “Yes,” she stressed. Flash ran his hands through his hair. “Are you going to help us or not? We just need a quiet and discreet way to get to where he is. That’s it.”

Flash released a long breath before he shook his head. “Peter is Spider-man,” he said again. Before MJ could jump at him, he continued speaking. “I’m not doing this for him.” He turned back inside the house. “I’m going out!” he called.

“Will you be back before dinner, sir?”

Ned expected Flash to say yes. Of course he would. Why wouldn’t he be back before dinner? They weren’t asking him to go with them.

“No,” he called to the butler. “If anyone asks, I won’t be back for a few days. Not that it matters,” he mumbled under his breath as he shut the door behind him without waiting for the butler to answer.

Ned stared at Flash, dumbfounded. “Wait… you’re not _coming!” _

Flash rolled his eyes and pushed between Ned and MJ, leading them down the path towards a car in the driveway. “I’m coming,” he said. “Or I’m not coming and you two don’t get my help or my money.”

Ned turned to MJ and she shrugged. “But you hate Peter!” Ned argued.

“Peter is an idiot,” he answered with a shrug, opening the car door. “Or, not really an idiot, but he is a complete nerd. However, if he _is_ Spider-man, I think I owe this to him for the Washington Monument; and, you know, helping to save the entire universe.”

Ned froze before getting in the car, staring at Flash as he went to get inside. He paused when he noticed that Ned had also paused. “You don’t think Spider-man killed Mysterio?” he asked.

Flash smiled. “I had some doubts,” he said with a shrug. “But now that I know for a fact Peter is Spider-man, I _know_ he didn’t do it. Peter’s a lot of things, but a killer isn’t one of them. He’s too much of a wimp.” He got into the car and Ned turned to MJ. She shrugged and slid into the car. Ned sighed.

“What the hell?” he muttered as he got into the car beside MJ.

Peter sat on the floor in the hallway outside Harley’s room, holding his hands together, pushing on his forehead until his head hurt.

“Are you okay, Peter?” It was the suit.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter muttered. No, he wasn’t fine. Was any of this actually fine? No, it wasn’t. “What do I do?” He knew he was crazy, asking a piece of AI for advice, but there was no one else to talk to. He couldn’t call Ned, or MJ, or May, or Pepper. They needed to be safe.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to keep them safe,” he told the suit. It wouldn’t understand. It couldn’t. AI didn’t have emotion. Sure, the Vision did, but he hadn’t been just an AI in a suit. “I want them to live through this. I want this to end well. I don’t want to put them in danger.”

“Then perhaps you should simply leave,” the suit suggested. Peter had thought about that; but he couldn’t just ditch Harry. He had made a deal with Norman. And Harley seemed like he was going to figure out a way to track them to the ends of the Earth.

“I can’t do that.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Peter asked despite knowing that it didn’t. It couldn’t, after all.

“No.”

Peter sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. “Suit-guy… call Norman Osborn please.”

“Of course.”

The phone rang so many times that Peter was certain the man wasn’t going to pick up. When he did, he sounded annoyed and tired. “Osborn,” he answered.

“Good morning, Mr. Osborn,” Peter said.

“Ah! Peter,” Norman answered. His annoyed tone was dropped, and Peter could hear the smile in his voice. “I haven’t heard from you, but I did hear that there was a disturbance in Tennessee. Something about a lion attack. Know anything about that?”

Peter smiled despite everything. “Yeah… that was us.”

“Are you okay?”

“Harry and I are fine,” Peter answered. A doctor walked past him and stared down as she kept moving. In a dark, near vantablack suit, he was entirely out of place in the pristine hospital.

“That’s good.” He paused a moment. “Will you be on your way soon?” He didn’t seem too concerned about their wellbeing.

“There was an accident,” Peter explained. “Harry and Harley were—”

“Harley?” Norman asked, cutting him off. “Who’s Harley?”

Peter could have kicked himself. He shouldn’t have mentioned Harley’s name. Norman probably didn’t like a curve ball being thrown into the mix. “Harley… he saved my life. I tried to tell him that he needs to stay out of this, but if you knew the people that Mr. Stark mentored, you’d know—”

“No,” Norman snapped. “No. No one else needs to get involved with this Parker! No one!”

The anger in his voice was shocking to Peter. He expected him to be mad, but he didn’t think that the anger would be that visceral. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice meeker than he had intended. “I just… He saved my life… He saved your _son’s_ life! The least we can do for him is make sure he’s okay. If he wants to help, I don’t see why we can’t let him.”

Norman released a long hiss of air. It sounded harsher through the phone speaker. “This is a delicate operation. I don’t like variables, Peter. And this Harley kid… he’s a variable.”


	9. Cable Car

> Chapter Nine: Cable Car

The mood in the car was about as fun and comfortable as a funeral where the murderer was present and making jokes on the podium during the eulogy. The radio wasn’t even on, having lost connection to a radio tower over an hour ago. Harry and Harley were in the front seat, staring forward at the road without saying anything. Peter sat in the back, sunken down in the seat with his arms crossed, watching the tops of the trees whip by. Procuring the car had been just a matter of a few phone calls from Harry, and keeping th hospital quiet about their visit had been easier.

No one in the car had spoken for over an hour and with each passing minute, the air hung heavier and heavier. Peter had just about enough of both Harry and Harley. He didn’t know either of these two young men and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be reacting to this. He had spent the first hour of the car ride listening to the two men argue about whether or not Harley should be there. Peter closed his eyes, trying to will this to be easier.

“So, Peter… How was fighting Thanos…?”

It was an innocent question, but it still sent shivers up and down Peter’s spine.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about that,” Harry suggested with a groan. It was like everything that Harley did got on Osborn’s nerves. Peter couldn’t say he blamed him, but he also wished that Harry didn’t treat him like a child. It was unbecoming of the entire situation.

“Why don’t you just let him talk for himself?”

Peter closed his eyes and sank lower into this seat. He was about ready to jump out of the car and go it alone. He didn’t want them to start another argument where they shouted at each other. The last one had to deal with Harley refusing to leave, and then threatening to call the police and Pepper on the Osborns for kidnapping and aiding a criminal. After several calls to Norman Osborn, and several hours, Harley was officially an employee of Oscorp as Peter’s “handler.”

Now the air in the car was stale and the animosity between Keener and Osborn was as constricting as a boa constrictor, squeezing the life out of the people in the vehicle. Peter closed his eyes, and leaned forward with a groan, hugging his legs.

Harry turned back to him and cocked his head. “You gonna be sick?” he asked, concern lading his words.

Yes, Peter was going to be sick. Maybe not now, or any time soon, but he knew he’d be sick eventually. “I have to pee,” he managed to push out. It felt like the air in the car was suffocating him. He needed to get some fresh air away from those two and their constant bickering. They were treating him like he was the child, but they were the ones who were acting all different shades of immature.

Harley said nothing as he pulled off the highway and into the nearest rest stop. They were almost to Atlanta and the drive was excruciatingly slow. Peter stepped out of the car and stumbled towards the bathroom, keeping his head down as he walked. He hadn’t removed the suit, but it looked relatively normal without the mask.

He stepped into the bathroom and breathed a sigh of relief at having gotten out of their sight. “They’re smothering me,” he grumbled to the suit.

“Perhaps you should just tell them,” it suggested in its normal deadpan, but oddly soothing, voice.

Peter resisted the urge to laugh. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he was truthful to them. They would just laugh him off… probably. They seemed to think that he was just a child, even though he’d probably seen much worse than both of them combined.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

Peter flinched and turned as Harley walked into the restroom behind him. “Look… I get it. This isn’t ideal for any of us. I was hoping to help you without the Osborns, and they were hoping I would leave. No one’s happy.” Peter said nothing. He turned to the mirror and stared at his own reflection. Harley kept his distance. “And I know it’s not ideal for you either. You probably thought being a superhero would be easier…”

Peter shook his head. “I didn’t,” he whispered. “I didn’t think it would be easy… or fun.” He bowed his head and leaned on the sink. Harley was quiet for several minutes before her spoke again.

“I know you don’t know me from Adam, Pete—”

“He talked about you,” Peter said quietly.

Harley cocked his head. “What?”

“When we first met, you seemed dejected that I didn’t know who you were,” he explained. He leaned more heavily on the sink, threatening to crack the porcelain. “He _did_ talk about you. Not often… but he didn’t talk a lot about his personal life to me… But one day, he came over and took me out to dinner.” He closed his eyes tightly. Pain radiated from his eyeballs. “He told me a lot of things that night… about the Iron Man suit, the arc reactors… and his life, when he got too deep into conversation. He told me about when he met you; a rough time in his life… a time he wished he wanted to forget.” Peter shook his head and turned to Harley. “I meant to look you up after he died, but…”

“Time got away,” Harley whispered. He walked up to stand beside Peter. “Look… I’m not a superhero. I don’t have powers, I’m not super smart… I’m just the kid who happened to live in the house Tony Stark picked at random; the kid who happened to live in a town where a horrific thing happened. I’m nothing special… but I _want_ to help you, Peter. I want the best for you because he believed in you. Not only that. I followed your career a bit from that stupid town. And I just don’t think the Osborns have your best interest.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. Harley was right. He didn’t know either of them from Adam. He didn’t know how to make this choice. “I’m not special, either,” he grumbled. “I was just the kid who happened to get bit. There’s nothing that made me worthy of these gifts; nothing at all.” He pushed off the sink. “I want to think the best of people. Maybe Norman Osborn doesn’t have my best interest at heart, and maybe you do, but he has resources.” He turned to stand face to face with Harley. They were about the same height. He was a little taller than Peter. It was odd. Harley was supposed to be younger than him. “And you have the heart.”

Harley stared at him a moment, and then he smiled widely. “I guess I see what that old man saw in you.” He clapped Peter’s shoulder with a laugh. “You’re a good kid, Peter Parker.”

When they made it to Atlanta, Harry directed them to a hospital-like building. After going through several layers of security, they were released into the apartment side of the building. Harry fell onto the bed while Peter hung back. He wanted to get away. Now that they were back in a city, he felt he could get some swinging in. “I’m going out,” Peter announced quietly. Harry sat up on the bed and looked over at Peter.

“Out?”

Peter nodded. “The webbing in the suit is black cables. I’ll stay out of sight as much as I can. I just need some time alone.”

Harry looked like he was about to argue, but Harley stepped into the room behind Peter. “That sounds like a good idea, Pete. Fresh air will be good for you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, but then shrugged. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Just be back before dawn. We need you as a night stalker with that suit on.”

Peter nodded and went to the window, jumping out without a care in the world. Once outside, the hot Georgian Summer hit him like a ton of bricks. The air was hot and humid, but that didn’t seem to deter him as he swung through the air. The city wasn’t laid out like New York. It was smaller and the buildings weren’t ideal for swinging, but he managed, using the webs when he could and then using his feet to run over the rooftops when swinging wasn’t feasible.

There was something different about the flow of Atlanta. It was still a big city, but the hustle and bustle were different. Everyone was in a hurry, but it was a different kind of hurry. New Yorkers were good people, but they didn’t seem to have time for anything. These people seemed to be slower; not by much, but slower. Peter landed on a building heavily.

These people didn’t notice him. They didn’t know to look up. He was used to people looking up at him in New York. They looked up to the sky in hopes to get a quick glimpse of Spider-man. He crouched on the building and stared down at the people moving below. They had no reason to search the rooftops. Atlanta, as far as he knew, didn’t have a superhero.

Sirens wailed through the night and Peter jumped, turning to look as three police cars came tearing down the street. He poised to jump and follow them but froze before lunging. Harry wouldn’t want him getting involved. No one was supposed to know he was there. He almost turned away, but something flashed into his mind; a memory… that he had tried so hard to not be affected by. He had looked away once…

Never again…

With a resigned sigh, Peter jumped from the building and swung after the police cars. He followed them for several minutes before they pulled up beside several other police cars. The officers stepped out of their cars to join the officers already standing around in the area. Peter narrowed his eyes. He was on a building adjacent to an office building. On the roof across the alleyway from him was a sniper with a gun trained firmly on one of the offices. Peter followed the line of fire and cocked his head in thought. The blinds on one window were closed. “Suit guy?” Peter asked. “Can you tune into their dispatch?”

“Of course.”

After a moment, his headset came alive with the chatter of police officers as they communicated to each other. There was a woman in the building with a gun, holding five people, including a child, hostage. She had demands and the police were scrambling to oblige. Another wave of uncertainty washed over Peter. He shouldn’t bother with it. Dusk wasn’t ready to make a debut. He wasn’t here to play superhero. He was here to assist in some science stuff. Harry had mentioned it a couple times on the way down, though Peter didn’t know much about why they were even here.

Playing superhero wasn’t the reason. That much he _did _know.

The urge to turn and leave didn’t even pass his mind. Five lives were on the line. Peter closed his eyes. He wanted to just jump down, but this police force didn’t know him. They might not be so keen to accept his help. He turned to the sniper. She hadn’t spotted him yet and he needed to keep it that way. He snuck to the other side of the building that he was on before jumping from the roof to the office building where the hostages were being held.

He carefully moved down the side of the building until he found a window that he could sneak into on the floor where the sniper had been aiming. He was quiet; a lot quieter than any SWAT team could be. As he got closer to where the shooter was holed up, Peter’s spider senses started buzzing to closer he got. _What are you doing, Peter? _he thought as he paused by the door. He would have to confront these people. If he walked into that room, he might take the gunfire.

His senses told him that the shooter was far from the door and the hostages were on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t have a plan, but he needed to get this done quickly before someone got hurt. Or get out of there before someone saw him.

He nodded slowly, figuring out a plan. He’d be the person that got in and then out. The people in the room would be the only ones who saw him. The shooter was to his left as he stood facing to the door. With a soft sigh, he steadied himself before kicking the door in, throwing it against the wall across the room.

In the shouting and confusion, Peter jumped inside, throwing off the lights off to cover himself. He narrowed his eyes as he jumped onto a desk, turning to the hostages. “Run!” he shouted, lowering his voice. Before she could fire a shot, Peter jumped at her, grabbing the weapon from her hand, and throwing it out of reach after crushing the barrel in his hand.

“Who are you?” the woman asked. Her voice was thick with an accent that he didn’t recognize. There was something in it. Fear? He dismissed the thought. It wasn’t fear. It was arrogance. Before he could answer, she moved, fast as a viper, faster than any regular human he knew, and whipped out another gun. His senses warned him of the danger, but he had no time to react. The shot rang out and he went down with the force. The woman didn’t say anything as she streaked past him. He grabbed his belly where the bullet had hit. The suit was bullet proof. That didn’t stop it from feeling like he had been punched in the gut by a Titan.

It took him only a moment before he regained composure and ran after the woman. The police dispatch channel was going crazy, confused about what was going on in the building. He slid into the hallway and froze. The woman had the child by the hair, holding the gun she had used on Peter against the young boy’s head. Peter’s eyes widened. This couldn’t happen… It _couldn’t._

“What do you want?” he asked her. Her demands had been money and a car. The police had been trying to buy time while they assured her that she would get what she asked for.

She sneered. “You recover quickly.” He shrugged. The little boy whimpered as she pushed the gun harder against his head. Peter bit his lip.

He looked around them. There wasn’t much. He would only have one shot at this. He raised his hands. “Let the boy go,” he whispered. “Take me instead.”

The woman scoffed. “You broke through that door like it was paper. You’re clearly one of those suits they got in New York.”

“Suit?” Is that what they called them down here? “Fine, I’m a suit.”

The woman shook her head harshly. “’Bout time we got one down here!”

“Yeah…” He looked down at the kid. His face was pale and his lips were trembling. He wanted to reassure the boy, but one wrong move and everything could come crashing down. She had moved faster than he had been expecting. She had subverted how he had planned this to go. One wrong move, and that boy was dead. He stepped back. “You don’t want to kill that kid,” he whispered.

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know what I want?” she snapped back. “You don’t know anything!”

“Probably not,” he whispered. “But I do know that boy hasn’t done anything to you. Please… let him go.” The boy let out a soft whimper and Peter held his hands out helplessly. “It’ll be okay,” he tried to assure the child. He turned his gaze back to the manic woman. What could he say to make this better? There wasn’t anything. “Ma’am… please…”

He gritted his teeth as the kid whimpered again. He had to do something. The headlines were either going to read that a new superhero had come to Atlanta and had saved a group of hostages… or a masked idiot had botched a hostage situation before the police could resolve it peacefully.

Peter hoped it was the first one. And he only had one shot to make that hope a reality. He took stock of the area. They were in a tight office hallway; not a lot of room to move around, but enough to work with. He nodded almost unnoticeably before moving faster than she had and firing a glob of webbing at the barrel of the gun. There was a muffled _pop_ a second after he had gummed up the machine. The weapon bounced off the kid’s head and Peter darted forward, kicking the woman away from the child.

She recovered far quicker than Peter had intended. Unable to think of anything else, he spun around, holding the boy to his chest as he curled around him, showing his own back to the woman. She unloaded another gun at him. Each bullet hit him like a bee sting. Welts would appear on his back if he survived.

Before long, she had unloaded the weapon on him and then she turned to flee. Peter waited until the sound of her receding footsteps could no longer be heard before he uncurled, stroking the child’s hair. The boy looked up at him, his eyes wide. “Hey,” Peter whispered. “I need to go stop her.” The boy nodded and Peter picked him up. He didn’t know what to do with the kid, but he didn’t feel right leaving him alone.

When they got to the bottom floor, Peter put the kid in a closet before walking out. The woman was being handcuffed when he looked out. With that done, Peter walked back to where he had left the boy and he knelt in front of him. “Hey, kid,” he whispered gently. “I’m sorry about all of this.” The boy had nothing to say. He whimpered and rubbed his face. Peter cocked his head, trying to appear less frightening. His original suit had eyes that could move and show emotion. This kid was just staring at a black, blank mask. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Ollie…” the boy whimpered, wiping his nose.

Peter smiled. “Where’s your mom, Ollie?” Ollie shook his head, leaning on Peter with a tearful cry. Peter picked the kid up and headed for the door where the police were waiting to gather Ollie from Peter.

“Thank you…” the officer said as Peter handed off the child. The man looked Peter over and sighed. “What’s your name, son?”

Peter bit his lip, unsure of what to say. His usual “your friendly neighborhood Spider-man” wouldn’t work. He sighed, deciding that it would be best to brand himself as Osborn had wanted him to brand. He lowered his voice to sound deeper. “Dusk,” he said in his most gravelly voice. Before the officer could question Peter more, he shot a black web and pulled himself up and out of sight.


	10. These Are the Days That Bind Us

> Chapter Ten: These Are the Days That Bind Us

Pepper paced the hallway of the hospital restlessly. She hadn’t left since Peter had run off. She wanted to be angry with him for fleeing, but she also couldn’t anger him for it. She ran her hands through her hair and looked up as Happy stepped out of the elevator. “You should go home,” he told her. “Morgan is starting to wonder where you are.” Rebuilding their building was already underway and Happy had been overseeing it. She sighed and leaned against the wall, holding her hand to her forehead.

“What are we going to do?”

“_You_ aren’t going to do anything,” he told her. “The more you get involved, the more they will have to use against you. You have a company to handle.”

He was right. She hated that he was right, but she couldn’t deny it. Peter wasn’t her child. He wasn’t her problem. He was Tony’s charity case than he had taken a shine to. The rest shouldn’t be up to them. But it was. “We can’t just ignore it,” Pepper snapped.

“I know,” he agreed. “And I will make sure to go after him, but you need to stay as far away from this as possible.” Pepper made to argue, but he put his hand up. “It’s not just you, or Morgan. It’s a company that employs people, and their families! If Stark Industry tanks because of this, it won’t just be your family that suffers.”

She bit her tongue, annoyed that he was right. “Fine,” she whispered. “But you keep me in the loop as much as you can, you hear?” Happy nodded. Before he could say anything, the elevator dinged again and a man stepped into the hallway. He was a short older man and his eyes shifted down the hallway. Pepper recognized him, though she hadn’t seen him in an upwards of fifteen years. She couldn’t place his name.

“William Riva?” Happy said, taking a step forward.

Realization dawned on her. Riva… He had been fired by their company in a purge after Obadiah. She figured he had moved on. She turned to Happy and he shrugged. “H-how are you, William?” she asked.

He flinched and turned to her. He had always been a squirrely person, but he was sweating and his breathing sounded labored.

“Are you okay?”

He said nothing and another man stepped out of the elevator. This one was slightly taller than Riva, but meaner looking and more confident. He had on a long trench coat and a hat despite the hot New York summer. The man tipped his hat to Pepper and Happy took a step back. She suddenly became hyper aware that Morgan wasn’t with Happy. Where had he left her? And was she okay.

The man smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Potts,” he said. He turned to the door leading to May’s room. “Is she in here?” Happy moved to block the man’s entrance into the room. It did nothing to deter him. “Please. The only reason you’re still alive is because I’m allowing it.”

Pepper tried not to react to the man. Surely he knew that she could easily call a suit to her aid if he tried anything. “Excuse me, sir?” she asked, keeping her tone harsh and severe.

The man merely smiled and held out a hand. “Dr. Otto Octavius,” he introduced. Pepper knew the name. A scientist… but that wasn’t why it was familiar. No… something about a lawsuit. She couldn’t pinpoint it, and she didn’t take the offered hand. Octavius withdrew his hand. “Temper, Mrs. Potts.” He turned to Happy and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Hogan.”

“What do you want,” Pepper asked before Happy could say anything. Riva was also silent, keeping his distance.

“Nothing,” Octavius said. “What I want, you can’t give me.” His tone darkened and he smirked. “It’s more about what _you_ want. Do you want to see your husband again, Mrs. Potts?”

Pepper tried not to react. This man didn’t seem at all concerned with who he was talking to. In fact, he seemed to be rather pleased with himself. “What grudge do you have against him?” she asked.

Octavius merely laughed. “I don’t care about your husband!” he spat. “I care about that little _brat_ he took a liking to!” He advanced on her and she held her ground without sulking back. Happy knew what to do. Octavius reached into his pocket and Pepper tensed. Instead of pulling out a gun, he pulled out a phone. “Contact him,” he snapped.

Pepper gingerly took the phone from him and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know where he is,” she said.

“Find him.”

“And tell him what?” Pepper asked cautiously.

“Tell him that he’s the reason I lost everything, and he will be the reason _you’ve_ lost everything. Ask him how many more graves Peter Parker will dig.”

For the first time in the encounter, Pepper’s face went white and her stomach dropped. She tried not to show the horror, but she couldn’t hold it all back. “Where is she?” Pepper whispered, her voice shaking. “What have you done?”

“Don’t worry,” Octavius said with a smile that she was sure he was supposed to be soothing. Instead, it was sinister, and it sent chills down her spine. “She’s safe… For now,” he added with that same grin. If it weren’t for that kid, you and your husband would be living your peaceful life. Now, you must lose your entire family to him. And I want him to know that it was your connection with him that sealed your and your daughter’s fate.”

Pepper gripped the phone tightly, threatening to crack it. It wasn’t a smart phone. She flipped open the phone and scrolled to the contacts. There were none. Her stomach did summersaults as she lifted her head to look at him. How long would it take to get Rescue here? If she killed this man now, would Morgan be safe? To her horror, she highly doubted it.

He motioned to the device in her hand. The sinister smile was gone, replaced by cold grief. When he spoke again, his voice was frozen and without emotion. “Call him.”

Peter opened the window and Harley and Harry were both waiting for him like two parents waiting for their child when he should have been home four hours ago. He said nothing to them as he headed for the bathroom. Before he could throw the door open, Harry spoke. “Hostage situation?” he asked with a deadpan voice.

Peter sighed. That was to be expected. He wasn’t supposed to be drawing attention to them. “You heard about that?” he asked, trying to blow it off.

Harry rolled his eyes and stood from the bed. “Of course, I did! The whole city did! We’re supposed to be laying low, Pete, not revealing ourselves the first chance we get.”

Peter turned to Harley for help. Surely, he would think what Peter did was admirable. Harley shook his head slowly, motioning to Harry. “I agree with him, actually.”

Peter winced softly and closed his eyes, bowing his head. “I guess this is serious if it’s got you two to agree on something.” He put his hand on the doorframe and sighed deeply.

“This is serious,” Harry snapped.

Peter didn’t need them to tell him that. He _knew_ how serious this whole thing really was. He wanted to tell them that. They didn’t need to keep reminding him of what was going on, but he felt like they didn’t need him to tell them that. “What was I supposed to do?” he asked. “Let them die?”

“How about letting the police handle it?” Harry said with a shrug.

“It didn’t look handled to me,” Peter grumbled, but he relented with a soft groan. They were right, and that was the hardest thing to admit. They knew better than he did about what they were up against. Norman probably didn’t want anyone knowing that he was helping Spider-man avoid the police. That was why he didn’t want Pepper involved, after all. “I know…” he said with a sigh. “Low profile.” He pushed the door to the bathroom open and stepped inside before peeling away the Dusk costume. He didn’t try to talk to his suit as he pulled it off. He discarded it with mild annoyance, throwing it to the corner of the bathroom. So far, this road trip was going about as disastrous as he last vacation. A small part of him would rather be thrown into the path of a speeding train again.

He stepped into the shower and flinched as the hot water hit his bare back. Something Harley said came back to him. Was being a superhero supposed to be fun? Or easy? He closed his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be either, but he was certain that it wasn’t supposed to be this painful.

As he stepped out of the shower, he stood for a moment, exposed to the steamy air of the bathroom. He hated that everything about his life seemed to be falling apart. After drying off, Peter took the bathrobe from the wall and wrapped himself in it, trying to find comfort in the warm and heavy fabric. He released a long, shaking breath before grabbing the mask for the Dusk costume and putting it on. “Suit guy?” he asked as he stripped off the robe and replaced it with a t-shirt laid out for him and some Pajama pants.

“Yes, Peter,” it answered. “How can I help you?”

Peter laughed. “Can you make this any easier?”

“That I cannot do,” the suit answered in its dry, soothing tone. Peter couldn’t help but smile. At least Osborn had created an AI with a personality to rival Tony’s. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

He thought about it and found that he was considering it for the AI’s sake. He wanted it to feel useful. He laughed at his own thought process. Was he so desperate to make sure everyone got what they needed that he would feel bad for hurting the nonexistent feelings of an AI built into a suit? “No,” he said, shaking his head with a slight laugh. “There’s nothing else.”

“Certainly.” The suit was quiet for a moment, and then “incoming call, Peter. Shall I answer it?”

Peter blinked. Incoming call? How? No one should have this number. Surely not even Ned, whom he had called, would have his number. Who would be calling him?

“Shall I answer it?” the suit repeated.

“Y-yes… Please,” Peter said quickly.”

The phone was answered and suddenly he was bombarded by the caller ID. It was unknown. “Peter?” It was Pepper’s voice. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he stammered. “I’m fine. Safe,” he added quickly. “How’s May?”

“She’s good.” She paused for several moments. Her breathing came harshly through the phone and when she spoke again, he tone was strained. “That’s good that you are safe. Do you need anything?”

“No,” Peter answered. He paused a moment. “What’s wrong?” There was something wrong. He could tell. His spider senses tingled slightly and even without the warning signal, her voice was tight and her words curt. She was holding something back.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she tried to assure him. There was no assurance in that way she said it, however. Her voice was shaking. Even as that thought passed through his mind, he heard her whimper softly. “Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Peter. Don’t tell me anything.”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong? May’s safe?”

“She is,” Pepper said quickly. She choked a little and Peter clenched his fists tightly. “Peter,” she whispered. Her tone was urgent.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a good kid, Peter. Don’t like anyone tell you otherwise.” She was talking quickly.

“I don’t—“

“You’re a _good_ kid,” she insisted, cutting him off. “Tony knew you were, and he was wrong about a lot of things, but not you…” She paused and released a shaking sigh. “Not you…” The phone call went dead, leaving Peter in the silence of the bathroom. Despite the lingering steam from the shower, he suddenly felt a chill down his back.

It took him several minutes to be able to move and all he did when he got control of his body again was look down at his hands. Something was wrong… and he had to go back.

“Harry!”

Pepper hung up the phone. They were no longer in the hospital. They had been moved to a house outside the city. This house seemed more like something Riva had been expecting when he signed up for this deal. It was dreary and secluded; the exact opposite of the castle-like structure the rest of their group was holed up it. Pepper’s associate, Happy Hogan, was sitting huddled in the corner. Octavius had a gun in his hand, but it wasn’t pointed at anyone. Yet.

Riva watched Pepper for a long moment as Octavius stared at her through thick glasses. Riva took a step back from the man. This wasn’t going to end well. Pepper was not deterred. She put the phone in Octavius’ hand defiantly.

When he spoke, his tone was measured. “You didn’t tell him what I told you to say.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m kidding, Mrs. Potts?” he asked. Suddenly, he threw the phone, shattering it on the wall inches from Riva’s head. He flinched. “Do you think I’m trying to be funny?” he shouted.

Pepper, to her credit, didn’t even flinch. “No,” she said in a calm tone. “I think you are very serious.” She turned to Riva a moment before staring Octavius in the eyes. “Peter is a good boy,” she said. “I won’t have you ruining that.”

“Good?” Octavius laughed and shook his head. “You _do_ think this is a game, don’t you? A sick little game.” He raised the gun and aimed it. Not at Pepper, but Happy. Before she could make an argument against hurting him, Octavius fired. Riva flinched as Happy let out a loud shout of pain. He doubled over, holding his gut where the bullet entered. Riva moved to help him but froze when the barrel was aimed at him.

Pepper kept her face placid as Happy groaned in pain on the floor. “I’m not kidding, Pepper. The next shot will be through his head. That’ll be another death on that boy’s conscience.”

“The ferry,” Pepper whispered suddenly.

Octavius flinched and narrowed his eyes, aiming the weapon at her. “What did you say?”

“The lawsuit… it was about the ferry. You tried to sue us.”

He advanced on her. While he was distracted, Riva edged closer to Happy. The bleeding needed to be stopped.

“It didn’t go through,” Pepper continued.

“You _do_ remember.” He laughed. It was a soft, almost sad sound.

“Is that why you’re doing this? Because you didn’t get the money from the suit?” She paused and Octavius said nothing. Riva was by Happy’s side now. He knelt beside the injured man and pulled off his own jacket to apply pressure to the wound. He had no love for Tony or Pepper, but Happy had never mistreated him or any of the other employees left out to rot by Tony. “No,” Pepper continued. She caught Riva’s gaze. “It’s not the money, is it? You lost someone.”

“I lost _everything.”_

Riva held the jacket over the wound as blood soaked the fabric. He needed professional help or he wasn’t going to make it.

“Tony Stark flew home that day,” Octavius snapped. “He flew home and Spider-man disappeared! He became an icon and everyone got to go home and get on with their lives! Do you know what it’s like to lose everything and have the people responsible be able to move on without repercussions?” His ending laugh was bitter and choked.

Pepper shook her head. “No one died on the ferry,” she said quietly. “We checked. Injuries were minimal for the disaster. We offered aid to those who were hospitalized.”

“It wasn’t enough,” he said quietly. Riva turned away from them and brought his gaze back to the bleeding man. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t _do_ anything. All he could do was try and comfort him. As long as they had no doctor, Happy was going to bleed out. Pepper was keeping Octavius distracted, but not enough for Riva to drag him out of the building and into a car.

Pepper continued talking slowly and calmly. “Then what happened?” she asked. “If no one died…”

“There were injuries,” Octavius said quietly. His voice had changed. The anger seemed to have gone out of him. “Injuries that had overarching consequences. I once had a wife… a child…”

Riva tried to ignore the conversation, but the reason they were doing this was too tempting. He looked down at Happy, applying pressure as the conversation continued.

“But not anymore,” he said just as quietly. “Tony Stark got to go home. Peter Parker got to go home. And I lost everything.”

Before anyone could move, a suit blasted through the wall. The purple suit lunged at Pepper and engulfed her and she spun, firing a repulsor blast at Octavius. He was thrown back beside Riva and Happy. There was a moment of silence where the only sound in the room was the hum of the Rescue suit.

“Where is my daughter?” Pepper demanded. Octavius didn’t answer. “I’m sorry you think you have to do this, but I refuse to let you take everything away from me! Where is she?” She ended in a shout that would put any mother bear to shame. Riva remained unmoving, not wanting to draw attention to himself and the injured man at his side.

“If you kill me, she will die,” Octavius said quietly. Another mechanical sound entered the fray. Metal limbs shot out from the jacket Octavius was wearing. Pepper was taken off guard and she was thrown back through the hole in the wall that Rescue had made. For a stout man, Octavius moved faster than should be possible, using the limbs to propel him forward.

Riva moved swiftly as well, grabbing Happy’s hand and putting it on the jacket. “Keep pressure,” he snapped. He grabbed the man’s other arm and got him to a sitting position, ignoring the grunts of pain. He helped Happy to his feet as the battle raged outside. Happy leaned on him heavily and limped weakly towards the door.

As they did so, Rescue came hurtling through the roof of the house, shattering the floor as she landed heavily on the wooden floorboards. Riva cursed but didn’t stop. Octavius came down through the hole in the roof, creeping along the building like some monstrous spider.

A metal limb shot out, slamming into Rescue’s chest hard and pinning her to the crater she had made. Riva flinched, but still didn’t freeze up. He couldn’t. He needed to get to a hospital. “I’m sorry you had to get caught up in all of this,” Octavius said. If he had been fighting Tony Stark, Octavius probably wouldn’t have stood a chance. Pepper was less efficient with the armor than her husband had been. “I’m sorry your daughter has to suffer because your husband took in a little lost boy. But I’m not sorry that I’m doing this. Spider-man will pay for what he’s done.” Riva froze finally at the door. Happy shuddered against his shoulder with an almost inaudible moan. “And death is too good for him!”


	11. You Take High Road

> Chapter Eleven: You Take the High Road

“Leave?” Harry asked, cocking his head. Peter didn’t know what he was supposed to say. They had just gotten there, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He nodded to Harry. They were in the room. Harry was sitting on the bed and Harley was standing with his back against the door, watching them with a critical eye. He was being quiet, and Peter wished he’d speak up. “We just got here.”

“I know…”

“Do you have proof that there’s something you need to stop back in New York?” Harry asked, standing from where he was sitting. Peter shook his head. “Then why are you convinced that you need to go home?”

“You didn’t hear her!” he argued.

Harry sighed and went to the window, leaning on the sill with a sigh. He looked like he was considering it. “You feel strongly about this?”

“I do,” he said with a nod.

Harry turned to Harley as if looking for some backup. Harley shrugged with mild indifferent. Maybe he didn’t care. More likely, though, was that he wanted them to work it out themselves. Harry relented. “I’ll call my dad; but first, we need to get some work done or he won’t like that we’re heading back to New York.”

“Work?” Peter didn’t like the idea of wasting time, but he knew he had to play along long enough for Harry to be satisfied. “Alright. What do we need to do?”

Harry stood and left the room with his phone in his hands, leaving Peter alone with Harley. “Thanks for not backing me up,” Peter grumbled, falling onto the bed with a loud huff.

Harley shrugged. “If I had said anything, he would have contradicted me _just_ to contradict me. There was no reason to get involved. You were handling it… weren’t you?” Peter put his arm over his eyes with a soft moan. “Are you going to tell me what she said?”

He didn’t want to. It wasn’t an admission that something was wrong. All he had was a feeling; nothing more. “That I’m a good kid,” he muttered through his arm without looking out. “That’s it; but she sounded so… scared…” He closed his eyes tightly. “Scared isn’t the right word. She sounded tense and worried.” Harley didn’t say anything, and Peter had the feeling that he was giving a doubtful look. “I know what that sounds like,” he continued, “but it’s true!”

“I don’t doubt it.”

The door opened and Harry was standing in the doorway with the phone in his hand. “Dad’s not happy, but I told him how adamant you were. If you still want to do, then we need to get the work done here.”

Peter suppressed an annoyed groan as Harry moved to the closet and pulled out a different suit. It was grey spandex with a mask that only covered the bottom half of his face and a domino mask. Peter suppressed another eye roll as he got on the suit. This was ridiculous. Everyone knew who he was! But he supposed that was the problem. They knew who he was, and they weren’t supposed to know he was here. He put on the domino mask and looked to Harry. “Let’s get this work finished.” He wanted this done as quickly as possible.

Harry nodded before turning to Harley. “Restricted,” he said.

Harley said nothing, and he didn’t seem surprised by the command. If anything, he looked as if he had been expecting Harry to say just that. He walked to the bed and sat down, nodding to Peter to go on. Peter followed Harry out and down the hall. There was no urgency in Harry’s step and Peter had to purposely slow his own stride to not overtake Harry. It was annoying and he couldn’t decide if Harry was doing it on purpose or not. Either way, he wanted this over with.

After taking so many doors that Peter lost track of where they were going in this labyrinth of a building. Eventually, they entered another door and Harry finally started speaking. “You can take off the mask if you want.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t the whole point—“

“Dr. Connors knows who you are,” he said with a shrug. Peter turned to him sharply. “Calm down. He needed to know.”

Peter took off the domino mask, but kept the one covering the bottom of his face. Dr. Connors? That didn’t sound good, but he kept his head down and his mouth shut. The longer this went on, the worst he felt about it. The stepped into the lab and instantly Peter felt out of place. Everything in the lab was white and pristine and he was a grey spot standing out like no one knew what to do with him. A man in a white lab coat stood in front of a large screen with what looked like blood under a microscope. He was talking to an assistant and she adjusted the samples at his command.

Harry coughed and the man flinched and turned to look at them. A look of confusion crossed his face before it fell away into a smile. He crossed the room to them while the woman stayed back. Peter held out a hand for Connors to take and there was a moment of silence in the room. Harry coughed softly and Connors merely smiled. Peter shifted his gaze to the arm that should be outstretched to find nothing but a useless sleeve dangling empty at his side. He withdrew his hand slowly and averted his gaze. “I like this one,” he said to Harry. “Peter Parker?” He nodded. “Good. This won’t take long, I assure you.” 

He turned and headed further into the lab. Peter followed as Harry went to talk to the woman about something. He was led through the lab, looking at the specimens sitting in formaldehyde. Most were normal animals, preserved in the chemical. But some were strange hybrid creatures, spliced together. His stomach twisted and he tried not to look at them; but it was like trying not to look at the aftermath of a car wreck. “What kind of work do you do here, Dr. Connors?”

“Genesplicing,” Connors answered, “and other biochemical studies. We deal with cross species and artificial species; things like that.”

“Cloning?” Peter asked, cocking his head at what looked to be a cat with two faces; one of a cat and the other of some sort of mammal, but it was so deformed that he couldn’t tell what it had been. Bile rose in the back of his throat. This was like Ripley’s Believe it Or Not, only worse.

Connors nodded, distracted as he was opening another door in the lab. “That, and other things. A lot of it is classified, but I suppose you need to know.” He opened the door and ushered Peter into a dark room. The only lights came from large monitors that bathed the room in a cold blue haze; like a room where doctors went to look at imaging scans and x-rays. Connors instructed him to sit, and he did. “I’d like to take a blood sample… if you are willing,” he added quickly.

The request was a surprising one. Peter hadn’t been told _what_ he was helping with; just that he was helping with something in Oscorp. “My blood?”

Connors nodded. “You’re an odd specimen, Spider-man. That bite _should_ have killed you. Being injected with mutated, radioactive Spider venom should have given you a swift, but very painful death. Instead, you’re alive. Not only that, but mutated. You’ve benefited from the bite.”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t thought about it like that. All he really knew was that he had been bit and he got powers. “And…?”

“Oscorp has been trying to replicate your success ever since you appeared out of the woodwork.”

Peter looked down to the ground in thought. Osborn had said that he moved to New York because of the proximity to heroes. He shook his head and suddenly his Spider sense started buzzing; not enough to say that he was in immediate danger, but enough to tell him something was off. He cursed the sense of not going off sooner. “And you want a blood sample?” he asked. Connors nodded. “Just a blood sample?”

“Actually blood, tissue, bone if you don’t mind.”

Peter _did_ mind. He minded a lot. He didn’t want Oscorp to have his blood or his DNA. But he was there. Osborn had helped him; gave him a suit and helped him get out of the city. He closed his eyes, shaking softly. He put his hands on the table in front of him. He could fight his way out, but then what?

_It’s just a blood sample, _he reasoned. “Tissue and blood,” he said quietly. “But no bone.”

Connors nodded slowly and took a needle. Peter stayed there without moving while Connors put a tourniquet on his arm and a needle in a vein. He bit his lip while Connors filled 8 vials of his blood, leaving about a third of each vial empty.

Once he was finished, they moved to another room that looked like an operating room. Peter laid down and closed his eyes as the tissue was taken. The pit of his stomach felt cold; and he was sure it wasn’t because of the blood loss.

When everything was finished, Connors offered him some orange juice and a box of cookies. Peter nibbled on a cookie while the man did what he needed to do to secure the samples. “You’re pretty good at doing this without two arms,” he said quietly.

Connors laughed. “You learn,” he said with a nod. “Are you feeling okay? Do you have accelerated healing?”

“Yeah. To both,” he added quietly. The blood would be replaced quickly. “Were you… Blipped?” he asked.

“No,” Connors answered. “My wife, the woman in the lab, was, but our son wasn’t.” He sighed and stared at Peter. “She had just given birth to him.” Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. He didn’t want to hear anymore Blip stories. “I turned away for just a second to address the doctor. He was vanishing before my eyes. Then… my child was crying and when I turned back, she was gone.” He smiled then. “But maybe I shouldn’t burden you with that. It wasn’t your fault.”

Peter could only let out a choked chuckle. Wasn’t his fault. He felt like he could have stopped it. His heart began racing and he put his hand to his chest. Maybe it was the lack of blood to circulate, but he suddenly felt lightheaded. He tried to stand, but stumbled forward. Connors was on his feet and Peter crashed to the ground, hitting it hard.

Pepper opened her eyes. She was somewhere that she didn’t recognize. The Rescue suit had been peeled off of her and she had been put down on a bed. The room was stone and beautiful. She stood slowly and, finding that she had no chains, she walked to the window to see nothing but a stretch of forest. Upstate. She put her hand on the window.

“I’m sorry.”

Pepper flinched and turned to the doorway. Adrian Toomes. She scoffed. “Of course you’d be part of this,” she snapped as she walked towards him. “Haven’t you done enough?”

He made no move to defend his actions. Instead, he let her approach without even flinching. “Happy’s being treated,” he said without looking at her. Riva made sure Otto let him do what he needed to save his life.”

Pepper was grateful, but she wasn’t going to show it. She shook her head. “I thought you gave up this life,” she snapped. “Tony vouched for you in your hearings!”

He looked away. “I tried to walk away,” he said quietly. Pepper shook her head and pushed him out of the doorway. He didn’t try to stop her. There was probably nowhere that she could go before someone came after her. Toomes followed her.

The house was huge. She was used to ornate living and used to being in places that felt empty, but the last few years of Tony’s life hadn’t been lavish or extravagant. She walked faster, but there was nowhere she could go. They had trapped her without really trapping her. “Where’s my daughter?” she snapped at Toomes. If he was going to follow her, she might as well get some answers.

“Safe,” he said. “But I don’t know where.” Pepper shook her head and clenched her fists, keeping her head down in an annoyed gesture. “Where are you going?” She didn’t acknowledge him. She’d find this Octavius and she would figure out a way to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone ever again. She wasn’t about to let him ruin Peter’s life. It wasn’t fair to blame him for the ferry.

The ferry…

She stopped walking and wheeled on Toomes as he almost ran into her. “Does he know _your_ involvement in the ferry incident?” she snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest. He backed away, holding his hands up in surrender.

“He does,” he said quickly. “His wife didn’t die on the ferry.”

“I know that!” she snapped.

“She died in childbirth,” Toomes continued without deterring.

“And what the hell does that have to do with the ferry?”

“She was injured on the boat,” he explained. “The injury had complications and eventually they had to do an emergency delivery to save the baby. She died on the table.”

Pepper tried not to react to that. She didn’t want to think about the consequences of the ferry incident. She and Tony had blocked all scrutiny from Peter after the boat. Since they were the only ones who knew his identity, any and all lawsuits went through them. Peter didn’t know about them. They had paid hospital bills, and all the damages from the ferry. They had replaced cars and property lost, and dealt with all the PR. Tony had made it all go away, and then they had moved on.

They never told Peter any of this. _“I don’t want to add to his guilt,” _Tony told her while they were discussing it one night. _“He already seems to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulder; he doesn’t need to know any of this.” _And they had left it at that. They took care of everything and Peter got to walk away with his conscience intact.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, steeling her voice so as not to give anything away. “Because if it’s to help me understand what that maniac wants—“

“It’s not,” he said. “It’s to help you understand how desperate and delusional he is.” He paused, taking a step back from her angry demeanor. “And how desperate _I _am.” He motioned for her to follow and she did so, confused. What was he getting at? He led her to a small room and shut the door behind her. She looked around, but there were no escape routes besides the door they had entered, and nothing to use as a weapon. In fact, this room was barren; devoid of any features. It was probably a servant’s room at some point. Now it was nothing. Not even a bed; and the floor was hardwood without even a rug.

“What are we doing here?”

“He has my daughter,” Toomes said quickly, his eyes darting around in some paranoid bird-like way. She steeled her face. “I was going to leave this life behind,” he snapped. “Liz was lost in the Blip. Her mother… she couldn’t handle it… Her daughter gone and her husband a criminal locked away in Rykers.” He shook his head and for the first time, Pepper really looked at him. She didn’t see the angry, bitter Vulture; all she saw was a hurting, grieving old man. “Liz is all I have left, and he’ll kill her. He’d kill her if he knew I told you _any_ of this.”

It was an effort to keep her voice from shaking. “Then why _are_ you telling me this?” Did he hope that she could help him? Or did he just not want her to think less of him? Either one didn’t seem like it would work very well.

“Because if anyone is going to help me stop this and get my daughter back, it’s going to be the person who also has a kid in danger,” he said urgently. “But for now, you need to hang tight. Don’t cause trouble. He won’t hurt your daughter until he has Spider-man, so she’s safe as long as Peter stays _out_ of New York.”

Pepper bit her lip. Peter wouldn’t stay out of New York. “Do you have a phone?”

“No,” he said quietly. “And no way to contact him.” She sighed deeply. “Now, leave out of here in a huff. There’re cameras everywhere.”

Pepper had no trouble acting like she was angry. She threw the door open and stormed out of the room, slamming it in an indignant way. A moment later, she heard the door open again as Toomes crept out. She walked the halls, clenching and unclenching her fists, annoyed and worried. Was this man dumb enough to keep Morgan and Liz in the same place he was keeping them? And what of Happy? And May?

She wished she hadn’t made that call at all. The way she had talked to Peter… he wouldn’t be able to stay away. If he was anything like Tony, he had a god complex and had to control everything. If Morgan died, Peter would never forgive himself. This _was_ his fault.

She paused at the thought. It hurt her to think it, but it was Peter’s fault. He had been told to leave it alone. He had been told to stay out of it! And now…!

She shook her head. No… She couldn’t think like that. She couldn’t blame him for this. If she did, she’d have to hate him. She’d have to blame him for Morgan’s death… if she died. She wouldn’t that happen. She clenched her fists, her eyes watering.

“Damn it…”


	12. I'm Just Going Over Home

Chapter 12:

Riva paced the small room where they were keeping Happy, May and Morgan. He was glad that Otto had trusted him to watch the bulk of their hostages, but he wasn’t too please about what he had learned from Toomes’ conversation with Pepper. Riva had been under the impression that Otto had something in mind for Spider-man. He knew that this was a revenge scheme, but he didn’t know how Otto had planned on turning this into one. Yes, they were kidnapping kids, but he was hoping that no one besides Peter would get hurt.

“What’s going on?” May asked. Riva froze midstep and turned to the woman. He frowned and looked away. Otto trusted Riva. He had worked with bosses who were worst than Otto and had been loyal until the end. Beck and Obadiah hadn’t cared about casualties. They had been necessary sacrifices. Riva hadn’t cared either but this… this was something else entirely.

“Nothing,” he told her as he looked away. What was he supposed to say? That he was working to not only kill her son, but physically and emotionally torture him before he faces the harsh reality of his actions, only to die knowing that he had caused all of this? “Well, a lot of stuff.”

“Where’s Peter?” she asked. Riva turned to her and shook his head. “Where is he?” she demanded again.

“He’s fine for now,” he said quietly.

“For now?” Her voice nearly cracked. “Why is he?” Her tone was raising in desperation.

“He’s going to die,” Riva told her. The room that there were in was small, but large enough to them. Happy was sleeping on the bed and Morgan had huddled in a small corner. May could rush at Riva, but she seemed to realize that he was the only one who could save her nephew. “And… I’m sorry.” He realized that he meant it. Beck had been a terrible man. He had been willing to kill if someone got in his way, but what Otto was doing seemed senseless.

He left the room while May shouted him. After locking it, he started jogging through the house. Peter didn’t deserve this; and he could do something about it. He couldn’t stop this, but he could at least make Otto’s life more difficult. His schemes wouldn’t work as well without…

He opened the door to his workroom and froze. The Mysterio tech… It was gone…!

“Hey kid…”

Peter opened his eyes and blinked at the harsh starlight assaulting his eyes. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the light, blinking as his vision adjusted. He was lying on the ground. It was hot.

“Are you alright?”

Peter sat up slowly and looked around. He was back on Titan. He looked down at his hands. He was wearing the Iron Spider suit.

“Over here, kid.”

Peter turned and his breath caught. Tony was sitting on a rock beside him, looking up at the remains of the destroyed moon. Peter followed his gaze to the debris. This was a dream. It _had_ to be. “You’re dead,” he whispered, trying to move this cryptic message along. He wasn’t going to pretend that everything was okay. Tony was dead. He wasn’t back on Titan. He was in Atlanta, Georgia, probably in some recovery room in Osborn’s building.

Tony laughed. “Not yet, kid, but I thought that _you_ were.” A hot breeze came through the area, rustling their hair. “How are you feeling?”

Peter looked down at his hands. The sound of metal on metal rang out as he clenched and unclenched his fists rhythmically. He relaxed a little. Dream or not, he felt safe here. “Not great,” he admitted. He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Mr. Stark. I’m…”

“Scared?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded, and then shook his head with a soft laugh. “Not just scared,” he admitted. “There’s something else. I can’t think without being overwhelmed. Whenever I think that I’ve gotten over it, or I’ve calmed down and accepted it, it sneaks up on me.” He turned to Tony; dream-Tony. “I don’t know what to do?”

Tony smiled at him. He was holding his Iron Man helmet, weighing it in his hands. Peter watched the movement. The detail was incredible. This dream was very vibrant. “Sounds like you’re struggling with what happened.”

“You said it hasn’t happened yet,” Peter argued. Time clearly didn’t matter here. Tony turned to back to the helmet in his hands instead of answering. Maybe arguing with a dream figment wasn’t the best thing. He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky. “I know I shouldn’t blame myself,” he muttered.

“Why not?”

The question took Peter off guard and he turned sharply to Tony. He was still staring at the helmet intently. “Well… your death wasn’t my fault,” he rationalized. Tony had done everything in his power to save the world and had given his life for it. Peter knew that. It stood to reason that he could have done nothing to save Tony.

Tony’s eyes didn’t look up from the helmet. He was running his hand over it now. The wind the was blowing through the alien planet was becoming colder. “You could have prevented the Snap,” he accused without looking up.

Peter shook his head. “No… No, I couldn’t have!” he reasoned. A feeling of dread was forming in the pit of his stomach; like he had swallowed molten lead. “The Snap happened on Earth!”

“And that’s where I told you to _stay!” _Tony returned. The anger and bitterness in his voice was unexpected. Peter flinched back as if he had been struck. “I wanted to keep you out of danger, kid, but you didn’t listen!” He finally turned to Peter. Blood was coming from the corners of Tony’s mouth.

Peter balked and his stomach dropped. _Wake up…! _He begged his mind and body.

Tony stood. As he did, the alien planet suddenly became the battlefield at the Avengers headquarters. He became aware of banging far off, but he didn’t turn to the sound. Tony’s face had lost almost all its color. Half his face was horribly burned and his ear looked almost melted away. “I had a life!” Tony shouted, discarding the helmet on the ground. It cracked and pieces fell away, revealing a rotting head inside. Grey matter oozed from the cracks in the skull and dark hair fell away in clumps. Nausea rose in Peter’s stomach, threatening to force the contents to the surface. As Tony’s bloodied and gaunt visage towered over him, Peter reached to pinch his arm to wake himself up. Tony grabbed his wrist, holding him tightly enough to break the bones if he had been normal. “You think this is a dream?” Tony shouted. He threw Peter’s hand down and then grabbed his suit, lifting him off the ground. He was no longer wearing his Iron Spider suit. Now he was wearing the torn suit that he had fought Mysterio in.

Tears were streaming down Peter’s face as he stared into Tony’s sunken eyes. “It wasn’t my fault!” he whimpered. “I couldn’t have stopped it!”

Tony threw him back to the ground. “You didn’t try hard enough!” he retorted. “And now Morgan will grow up without a father!” He narrowed his eyes at Peter. “But I guess you know how that feels, don’t you?”

The wind was knocked out of Peter as if he had been kicked in the stomach. He had no words. All he could do was stare at his mistakes and weep. The banging was getting louder and now he could hear his name being shouted. “Your death wasn’t my fault!” Peter tried to argue. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to give up your life to save me!”

“But I did! You failed to stop Thanos on Titan and now you’ve robbed Morgan of her father and Pepper of her husband! How many more people, Peter?”

“More?” he dared to asked.

“How many more will you kill?”

Suddenly light came from his left. The desolate battlefield suddenly flickered out of existence and he was left with the white walls of a hospital room. Peter’s eyes went wide as he searched the room for Tony’s ghost. He was gone, replaced by Harley as he ran inside. He went to grab Peter’s shoulder, but he pulled away from the man, struggling against any touch. It took him a few minutes to realize that the screaming was his own.

Harley was pushed out of the room by a nurse as a doctor ran after he left. “What happened?” the doctor snapped. Harley cocked his head.

“His vitals just shot up, Dr. Rinehart…!” The door slammed, leaving Harley in the hallway.

“I can’t… I can’t…” Harry was saying. Harley turned to the Osborn. He was pacing the floor, holding his hands over his ears while gripping his hair. Harley could only watch him for a moment. The boy was pale, and his hands were shaking. Harley walked over to him, but Harry just held up a trembling hand, shaking his head.

“What can’t you do?” Harley asked. Harry didn’t seem interested in responding. He just kept pacing, his eyes wide. “Harry!” Finally, Harry turned to look at him. His eyes were wide and full of tears, but those tears hadn’t spilled over. “What’s going on?”

“Dad said he killed Quinten Beck!” he snapped, pointing his shaking finger at the door. Peter was still in there, screaming.

“What are you talking about?”

“He said we weren’t going to hurt him!”

“We?” Harley grabbed Harry’s shoulders and shook him. “What the hell is going on, Osborn?” he snapped.

Harry looked up at Harley and then looked away.

“_Harry!_”

“Dad said that Spider-man killed Quinten Beck! He told me that kid was a murderer and that it didn’t matter! We were going to turn him in once…”

Harley shoved Harry away. “Once you got what you needed out of him,” he finished. “Where are the samples?” Harry looked like he was about to throw up. He fell against the wall, putting his hand to his chest. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know!” Harry snapped as he slid down to sit on the floor. He held his hands over his head.

Harley wanted to be mad at the kid, but he couldn’t; not fully. Harry didn’t know any better. His father had manipulated him just as he had manipulated all of them. That didn’t stop his anger from boiling in his stomach towards Norman Osborn. All of this… was a ploy to get Peter here for what? A few blood samples? Harley paced silently as the screaming in the room finally settled down.

“He didn’t kill Mysterio… did he?” Harry asked.

Harley shrugged. “I don’t know for sure,” he admitted. “But I don’t think he’s capable of doing that.” He leaned against the wall. “And your dad…?”

“He told me that it was okay because Spider-man was a murderer.”

Harley wanted to argue that it wouldn’t be okay regardless of if Peter had done the deed or not, but he had a feeling that the Osborns had a different sense of morality than the majority of people in this world. It didn’t excuse Norman, but it might excuse his son; for now. “So, what was that?”

Harry shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said quietly. “Dad said that he was working with some people, but he didn’t say who they are or what they’re doing.” He motioned to the door to the room. “I don’t think that had anything to do with it, though.”

The door opened and Dr. Rinehart stepped out. “He had a severe panic attack,” he said quietly. “We’ve given him some tranquilizers to calm him down.” He crossed his arms; an oddly defensive move for a doctor. “Has he been through any trauma recently?”

Harley felt the need to bite back with a remark about the kid having been through hell and back, but he didn’t say anything with detail. “I think so. Is it bad?”

“It is,” Rinehart said. “I’d like to keep him here and monitor his vitals.”

Harley didn’t like it, but it was probably better for Peter. That poor kid probably needed to sleep, and he would at least be safe here and could get the rest and food he needed. “Alright.” Rinehart nodded and disappeared back into Peter’s room as Harley began pacing again, kicking the ground. He was suddenly hit with the terrible realization that he was the only adult here. Peter needed help and that wasn’t something he could give him; not from Norman Osborn.

“We can’t tell your dad what you told me,” Harley said quietly. “The less Norman knows, the better.” Harry nodded without looking up. Harley wanted to scream at the kid and inform him of how terrible this whole thing was. He didn’t know Peter well enough to say it with complete certainty, but he was sure that Peter didn’t deserve this. But looking down at Harry, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I need Peter’s phone.”

He reached into his pocket and handed Harley the burner phone. As if picking it up had summoned the call, the phone began ringing. Harley tentatively took the phone and answered it. “Hello?” Harry looked up, blinking in confusion. He probably had the same thought as Harley. Who would be calling a burner phone?

“Is this Peter Parker?” the voice on the other end said. It was a girl, and she sounded about Peter’s age.

“This is Harley Keener. Who is this?”

“Michelle Jones,” the girl answered. “Where’s Peter?”

“Who are you?” He asked again. He wasn’t about to give up their location to some random girl on the phone. Harry stood beside him and cocked his head. “Michelle Jones,” he whispered to Harry.

“MJ?”

“MJ?” Harley repeated.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m Peter’s friend. Where is he?”

“He’s… not doing too well at the moment.” Harley wanted to know several things, but the most pressing matter was how they had gotten this number. “And that’s all you need to know. Delete this number. We’re handling it.”

MJ laughed. “It doesn’t sound handled. Why is he not doing well?”

Harley rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to explain any of this to these kids. What they needed to do was stay out of this because the adults had to figure it out. “He’s just… scared,” he admitted. This was a scary time.

“Let me talk to him.”

“No.” He didn’t want to admit that Peter wasn’t just scared… he was petrified to the point of screaming.

“Where are you?”

Harley closed his eyes. Should he tell them? The more people they had, the better. He needed to get Pepper on the phone. This was no longer a group of kids trying to get Peter to safety. Osborn was actively working to kidnap him and use him for something that Harley wasn’t even sure he wanted to know about. They needed to get Peter as far away from Osborn as possible.

And then that left the hunter and the other one that Peter had told them about. Who were they working for? It made sense that more people would be after Peter now that his identity had been revealed, but Harley wasn’t even sure that the Hunter even knew that his prey was Peter Parker or Spider-man. Dusk was a new superhero that would also have a target on his back.

“You need to stay out of this,” he told her.

“Peter needs us,” she argued. “Where are you?”

“Peter doesn’t need you. What he needs is for you to stay safe. If you really are his friend, you will stay out of danger. _That’s_ what he needs.” _He doesn’t need anyone else getting hurt on his watch,_ he added silently. He knew that she wouldn’t accept that. “Please… trust me.”

“Where are you?” MJ snapped without skipping a beat.

He shook his head slowly. He could hang up, but that would just leave those kids running around without a destination. He closed his eyes. Maybe Peter did need them. He sighed, relenting. “Atlanta in the Oscorp building there.”

Riva hurried through the house towards the cellar where Otto was working away. If the Mysterio tech was gone, that had to mean that Otto had deployed it somewhere else; but where and with whom? Riva was the only one here who was familiar enough with the tech to use it.

He hurried down the stairs, running through what he needed to say to Otto. He had started this mission thinking that it was the only thing he could do with his life with the level of expertise in dealing with criminal organizations. Now… Now he wasn’t so sure. Collateral damage was one thing. He had been okay with losing people in the process of schemes, but this wasn’t collateral. This was torture. They were torturing a kid and anyone who happened to be associated with him.

He opened the cellar door and stepped inside. Right now wasn’t the time to go and quit. Otto was volatile and quick to anger. No… If Toomes was here because his daughter had been kidnapped, then Riva could talk to him and get him to assist in stopping Otto.

“Sir?” he called.

Otto was hunched over a table, working tirelessly on one of his tentacles. “Oh, William.”

Riva steeled himself. “The Mysterio Tech,” he started. Otto stiffened. “It seems that you have sent someone out with it.” Otto nodded. “May I ask who?”

Without warning, Otto spun around and fired a shot, sending Riva stumbling back with a gunshot wound in his abdomen. His eyes went wide, and he grabbed his bleeding belly as he stared at Otto. “Why…?” he gasped. He hadn’t done anything to tip Otto off that he was beginning to have doubts with their operation. His legs buckled and he fell onto his knees, cracking his kneecaps.

Otto shrugged. “I have no more use for you,” he said.

Riva went to say something, but all that came up was blood. He crashed to the ground, staring at Otto through blurring vision as the man turned from Riva and got back to work.


	13. Walk Alone

Chapter Thirteen: Walk Alone

Pepper Potts closed her eyes as she leaned heavily on the stone railing of the balcony overlooking the courtyard below. She felt pressure behind her eyes as if she was holding back tears. This wasn’t the worst she had ever been through, and it probably won’t be the last time her connection to the superhero community would be herself and Morgan in danger; but there was something oddly personal, yet detached, about this one. Peter wasn’t _her_ problem. Yes, she had taken him in alongside Tony, but he had been the one who had wanted to be invested in Peter. She had gone with it because it had made Tony happy, but Peter wasn’t her pet project.

She shook her head slowly. Tony wouldn’t like that she was thinking like that. He had given up a lot of Peter and he would expect her to at least not think of Peter and his influence as burdensome. She pushed off the railing with a long sigh. She couldn’t waste time on that right now. Tony wouldn’t be sitting there wondering what to do next. He’d just do it. “Do what?” she asked the wind as she looked down at the courtyard below. She didn’t have the Rescue suit, and she not only had to get herself out of the building, she had to get Happy and May out as well. And then there was Morgan and Toomes’ daughter in an undisclosed location. Or two.

A gunshot rang out from in the building, causing Pepper to flinch back and spin around. The shot was muffled. Before she could hurry inside to make sure it hadn’t been Happy or May who had gotten shot, Toomes ran out onto the balcony. “The Mysterio tech is gone!”

Pepper pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “And?” She didn’t care about stolen VR tech. She cared about the gunshot that had gone off in the house.

Toomes shook his head. “Octavius wants to not only murder Peter, he wants to break him down! The Mysterio tech can do that more efficiently than a barrage of attacks by some random villains.”

His logic was sound and what he was saying was bad, but she didn’t show that it worried her. Instead, she drummed her fingers on her arm and watched him intently. “Quinten Beck is dead.”

“Yes,” Toomes agreed with a nod. “But that wasn’t the point. Mysterio wasn’t a person; he was an idea.”

She ran her hands through her hair with a soft sigh. That didn’t matter at this very moment. A gunshot had just gone off. That was the more pressing problem. “Who got shot?”

He shrugged. “If I had to guess, I would say Riva, honestly. If the Mysterio tech is gone and he’s still here, that means that they have someone else who can handle it. Riva is just another loose end.”

Again, she tried not to react to that. She still wasn’t sure if she trusted that Toomes was actively working against Octavius. He could be trying to gain her trust. “What’s the plan, then?” Regardless of her mistrust of Toomes, she knew that she needed him. She wasn’t going to get out of here without his help, and if it was true the Liz was in Otto’s grasp, then they had the same goals here. They both wanted their daughters back.

Toomes shook his head. “I don’t know. I know that Otto wants me to travel to Manhattan with him, but I don’t know why.” As if on cue, Otto’s voice echoed through the halls, calling Toomes to him. He nodded to Pepper before sliding back inside. She watched him go before turning back to the courtyard to watch Toomes take off minutes later and Otto get into a car. Before he did, he looked up on the balcony and locked eyes with Pepper. She didn’t want to see the look of pained regret in his eyes and she looked away. She didn’t care how conflicted he was about this. This was still his bed that he had made, and now they all had to suffer for it. She turned and left the balcony. Otto had left robots stalking the halls and a few servants to add the human element. And, if she was honest with herself, prevent her from burning the place down. There were living people here; innocents that probably didn’t know what was going on, or were being forced to work here. She didn’t want to be responsible for their deaths.

She walked through the halls. Some rooms were closed off while others were simply empty. She wandered until she found the entrance to the cellar. As she prepared herself, she stepped down. Riva was at the bottom of the stairs, lying in a pool of his own blood. Pepper stared at the man for a moment and a cold indifference washed over her. She couldn’t seem to care that he had perished here. It did bring up an interesting question; one that Toomes had already stated. If Otto had killed Riva, then who was the one with the Mysterio tech? Beck was dead…

She stepped over the body and walked further in. Otto had cleared away most of the work on the arms. Clearly, he didn’t care that she could get in here. There was nothing for her to find except for Riva’s corpse and a small television tuned to the local news station in Manhattan. She turned up the volume on the TV and walked amongst the tables in the lab. She kept her hands to herself as she did so. The pieces of tech that had been left were marvels of engineering. Pepper reached toward one of the arm fragments and lifted it in her hands, studying it. Tony would have loved to get his hands on this. It seemed such a waste to weaponize the tech. Just by looking at it, she could think of at least five different non-lethal applications for the arms.

She turned her attention to the tv screen as a jingle for breaking news broke through. Pepper cocked her head, studying the report as a woman stepped out of a van. The cameraman swung the picture to focus on a massive dark grey cloud hovering over the city. Wind whipped around the reporter as she explained the development of the freak storm. Suddenly a face appeared in the clouds, howling. The wind picked up harder, moving cars that were parked in the street.

Pepper clenched the chair near here. She went through who could go after this. Doctor Strange was still unavailable and Thor was offworld. She knew this was Mysterio, or his tech, but the people didn’t. Were they trying to draw Spider-man back into the city? All they had to do was tell him that they had his entire living family hostage to draw him out. Why the theatrics? Why risk hurting more people? She was sure that Octavius didn’t care who got hurt in the process, but they were drawing attention to themselves. This seemed personal. Why branch it out?

“Spider-man!” the face howled, roaring the name on the wind. Pepper shook her head. This was a trap. They were going to kill him in front of the whole city, and he would die with Beck’s blood on his hands…

Pepper’s breath caught as a groan came from where she had left Riva.

Peter stared blankly at the TV screen as the news continued reporting on the storm that was currently ravaging Manhattan. His mind was still reeling from the encounter with Tony. He was still trying to tell himself that it was a dream; but with the inclusion of the storm, he couldn’t deny it anymore. The Mysterio tech had fallen into the wrong hands again, and that meant that the encounter had been an attack. Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better about it. The things Tony had said were personal. Who knew that much about him?

The storm was calling him. They wanted him in New York. He pulled out the IVs and stood on shaking legs. He stumbled forward as the alarms started going off since he had, to the machines, coded. The only suit in the room was the Dusk suit and he quickly got it on before the doctors hurried in. As they did, he lunged out, running right into Harley.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Peter motioned to the TV in the room. The nurses that had come running stayed back, keeping their distance.

“We’re going back to New York,” Harley said.

“I’m going back to New York,” Peter countered. “There’s no reason for you and Harry to get yourselves hurt. They want me, not you.”

“Exactly. They want you and if you go back to New York alone, you’ll be giving them exactly what they want!”

Peter shook his head. Tony’s words rang out in his head. How many more people was he going to kill? He couldn’t let Harley and Harry get hurt trying to protect him. He pushed past Harley. “You are staying here.”

Harley grabbed Peter’s arm, spinning him around. “You need to calm down, Peter.”

Peter laughed, shaking his head. “Calm down?” He motioned to the TV. “How can I calm down? People are going to die and that’s my fault!”

“It’s not, though.”

Peter shook his head and ripped his arm out of Harley’s grip. “It is. And you need to stay here, out of danger.”

“Peter…”

“I don’t want you out there!”

“You can’t keep everyone safe!” Harley said, clenching his fists. “God, Peter! You need to look at this! You can’t do it alone!”

Peter shoved Harley into the wall, using more force than was needed and cracking the drywall. “You don’t have any powers!” he shouted. “And you are going to get yourself killed!”

Harley took a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was calm and level. “No, you are going to get yourself killed.”

Peter looked away. “If these people want me dead and they’ll stop when they complete that goal, then…” he trialed off, kicking the ground.

“That’s not worth it.”

Peter lifted his head to see Ned, MJ and Flash Thompson standing several feet down the hallway. At first, all Peter could do was stare at the trio, confused. The first thing he thought wasn’t how they got here, but why the hell they had brought Flash Thompson with them. All he could do was stammer once, “F-flash?”

“Hey, Parker,” Flash said with a shrug.

Ned hurried to him and grabbed his shoulders. “What are you talking about, Peter?”

“I’m going to New York and I’m going to face this.” He shook his head. “I have to take responsibility for this. This is my mess and I have to fix it.”

“By doing it alone?”

Peter broke away. They didn’t understand. Uncle Ben, Tony, Beck, the Ferry, countless others he couldn’t save… he had so much blood on his hands and that suit that he was literally dripping with it. He wasn’t about to add anyone else. If Manhattan got destroyed because he didn’t show up, he couldn’t live with that; and if someone died going with him, he’d never forgive himself. “I have to do this alone.”

“No, you don’t!” Ned argued.

“You guys don’t have powers!”

MJ stepped forward. “Tony Stark didn’t have powers either!”

Peter wheeled on her, unaware that she had even gotten closer to them. He lifted a finger, jabbing it towards her chest. “Don’t-“

“’Don’t’ what?” she challenged without stepping back. “Don’t mention that name?” She put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t kill Tony Stark!”

“Yes, I did!” His voice echoed in the silence that followed those words. The moment he said them, he knew that it was just his guilt talking. No, he hadn’t killed Tony Stark. Thanos had. He hadn’t killed Uncle Ben either… but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for their deaths and the deaths of everyone that he wasn’t around to save. He pushed past Ned and MJ, and headed towards Flash. He was expecting to walk past him without speaking.

Flash stepped in front of him.

“Move, Thompson,” he said. Today wasn’t the day for his bully to get in his face.

Flash just looked up at him. “You’re Spider-man,” he said with a small nod. “Doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Not today, Flash,” Peter said. He didn’t need to hear how he wasn’t suited for the job of being a superhero.

Flash shrugged and stepped aside, letting Peter walk by without another word. “You can’t go alone!” Ned called after him.

Peter didn’t stop walking. “Yes, I can.”

“But you don’t have to!”

He didn’t answer that, but the response was clear. Yes, he did.

By the time Peter had gotten out of Oscorp and had started heading towards the airport, he hadn’t calmed down. The suit was showing him that he had elevated vital signs and he was sure there was something deadly in that, but the suit didn’t mention it, so neither did he.

“How are you going to get to Manhattan?” the suit asked. Of course, the logical suit would ask that question.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. A flight from Atlanta to New York was expensive, and a bus would take too long. Sure, he could try to swing there, but how long would that take.

“When was the last time you ate, Peter?”

“I don’t know.” That was all he could say. He didn’t know. He didn’t know who these people were, what they wanted, and how he could beat them. And now he didn’t even know when the last time he ate was. He rubbed his shoulder as he walked down the streets.

“Shall I start route guidance to the airport?”

“Yes, please,” he answered, shaking his head.

“How about we stop somewhere first and you eat something?”

“I don’t have time to eat.”

“According to my systems, all living things need to eat.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head. “I know I _need_ to eat, but I don’t have time to.” What was he doing? He was arguing with a suit about whether or not he needed to eat. This was ridiculous. He knew that he needed to eat, and that he needed a plan. He paused and leaned against a lamppost. “I don’t know what I’m doing, suit guy. I know I need to eat, and sleep and…”

“Calm down?” it offered helpfully.

He laughed softly. Yes… he needed to calm down and work on how he was going to get back to Manhattan.

“Parker!”

Peter froze and turned to see Flash jogging after him. “Really? You’re going to come out after me? What are you going to do? Tell me how unfit I am for this role?”

Flash stopped several feet from Peter, keeping his distance from Peter. He could only imagine that it was for his own safety. “Actually, I was going to ask you how you planned on getting to Manhattan.”

Peter crossed his arms. “I don’t need you to mock my lack of a plan.”

He put his hands up defensively. “Someone’s a little touchy.”

“It’s been a long day,” Peter grumbled.

“I know.” He shook his head. “Actually, maybe I don’t. I don’t know anything about this whole superhero thing. I thought I did, but this-“ he motioned to Peter, “-this changes everything I thought I knew.” Peter looked away. “Look, I get that you don’t want them in danger. You’ve worked hard to keep us all safe, but you’re far from home and you need a way to get back there.”

“I’m not riding on your private jet.”

Flash shrugged. “It’s either the jet or I give you money for a plane. Either way, it’ll take a pretty long time. But the jet won’t take nearly as long as the airport.”

Five minutes later, Peter was sitting in a cab heading towards the airport where the jet was. “Why are you helping me?” he asked after a few minutes of dead silence.

Flash shrugged. “Because I like you.”

Peter scoffed. “No, you don’t.”

“I may not like you, but I do like Spider-man, and since, I guess, you _are_ Spider-man, I should help out.” He shrugged after a moment. “Besides, I knew you’d accept my help before Ned or MJ’s?”

He scowled, staring out at the roads as they drove on. The cabbie was clearly trying not to listen too intently to their conversation. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you care so much about them that you’re willing to push them away.” He looked up at the roof of the car. “And I know you don’t care enough about me to keep me out of this.”

Peter didn’t react for a few minutes. There were plenty of people that didn’t deserve his protection that he protected on a daily basis. Even Beck and Toomes. They both deserved to die, and he had done everything to save both of them. “It’s not about if I like you, or if you deserve it. It’s about keeping people safe, no matter the personal cost.” He turned to Flash. “And I don’t dislike you… It’s just-“

“I’m a jerk,” Flash finished with a shrug. “I get that.”

“You don’t have to be a jerk.”

Flash shrugged again. Peter didn’t pursue it. He could point out that Flash was putting himself in danger just to get him to Manhattan. But, he could skew that into saying that this was merely a way for Flash to make sure he was dead. Either way, he was putting himself in danger for some reason or another. Peter looked down at his hands. “Thank you, Flash,” he said, almost too quiet to hear.

“Don’t mention is. Just… promise me we won’t die.”

Peter didn’t answer. He couldn.t promise that. He looked at Flash and stared him straight in the eye. “I promise that _you_ won’t die.”


End file.
